Mystery Date
by michael t
Summary: Episode 7 of The Trick Chronicles, in which everyone is preparing for Homecoming, a good thing happens to Willow and Oz, and bad thing happens to Cordelia.
1. The Beginning

Suggested listening:  
  
"Pass In Time" by Beth Orton  
"Know Who You Are At Every Age" by Cocteau Twins  
"Nineteen" by Old 97s  
  
  
Mystery Date  
By  
  
Michael Walker  
  
***  
SUNDAY  
***  
  
Janine Treadwell was cute as only someone who was fifteen, blond, and carefree could be. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder as she walked through the darkness. She could have called her mother to pick her up, but since Crissie's house was only eight blocks away she'd decided to walk home. They were almost finished with their Chem I project, and Janine was surprised at how hard Crissie was working. They were best friends, but Janine realized that the other girl was something of a fountain of slack.  
  
Something rustled in the hedge. Janine stopped and stared, aware of just how dark it was. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to see into the mass of foliage. She convinced herself that it was her imagination and turned away.  
  
The creature burst out of the hedge in a scattering of leaves and the cracking of small branches. Janine jumped, her hand going to her mouth to smother a small shriek. She grinned as she watched the rabbit bound away, her heart still pounding in her chest. She smiled, hitched up her backpack, and continued home.  
  
***  
  
The drop of water clung to the glass, fighting the pull of gravity against its plump form. It quivered with resistance, then let go and trickled down, its passage carving one clear path through the dense condensation gathered on the windshield.  
  
Said condensation was formed due to the excess heat generated by the two people in the car. The interior of the Sebring was a confusion of groping hands, twisted clothing, and harsh breathing. Gymnastic moves worthy of Olympic gold were performed in the search for more leverage and new sensation.  
  
Xander Harris did not know if he believed in heaven, but if there was such a place, it would- it must -be very much like this. Unable to resist the temptation, he opened his eyes for the briefest moment. Yes, it was Cordelia Chase in the car with him. Who said dreams didn't come true?  
  
"Xander. Xander! Stop!" Cordelia got both hands on his chest and pushed him away. Xander took a deep breath and wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. Cordelia was busy re-buttoning her shirt. "How many hands do you have, anyway?"  
  
"Excuse me?" he said, his breathing heavy. "Did I do something I wasn't supposed to? Did I not do something I was supposed to?"  
  
Cordelia twisted the rear-view mirror toward her. "I thought we needed a time-out," she said, looking into the mirror to straighten her hair.  
  
"A time-out? Cor, my six-year-old cousin gets time-out. I'm not six years old."  
  
She looked at him. "Things were just moving a little faster than I wanted."  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we were playing good-touch bad-touch here." Xander turned away.  
  
"It's not that... it's just..." Cordelia struggled to find the right words. "Xander, we've talked about this."  
  
"I know, but it's killing me. We've been dating for, what, nine months? I'm eighteen years old, Cordelia. I'm at my sexual peak. I have--"  
  
"No, don't you go there." Cordelia held up a warning finger. "Don't give me 'needs' talk."  
  
"Hey, just because you're a robot doesn't make me one too." Cordelia's breath caught. Xander looked at her and saw real hurt in her eyes. "Hey, hey," he said, reaching for her hand. "I'm sorry. That was little Xander talking. You're the boss. Do you want to go home?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. I just don't want to..."  
  
He finished her sentence. "Push the envelope?"  
  
She nodded. "Exactly." She looked away, then back into his eyes. "I know this is hard for you--"  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Are you trying to kill my sympathy?" He shrugged. Cordelia said, "I'm not trying to tease you, Xander."  
  
"I know. You've been painfully candid on the subject."  
  
"There are things I won't do until I'm ready." She looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at him. "That doesn't mean," she said, scooting closer to him, "that there aren't other things we can do."  
  
He gazed into her eyes. He knew what the offer meant, and he could not believe what he was going to say next. "Thanks but not tonight." He reached up, his free hand touching her cheek. "Maybe we should just call it a night."  
  
She forced a smile. "Yeah. I think you're probably right."  
  
As she put the car in gear, Xander thought, I am a stupid, stupid man.  
  
***  
  
"All I'm sayin' is, you should have called me to watch your back." Faith's right leg flashed out and the sole of her black Doc Marten slammed into the female vamp's chest.  
The sternum cracked with a sound like crumpling cellophane.  
  
"Thanks, but my back was fine." Buffy cross-blocked a punch, then snapped off a backhand blow that crushed the nose of her vampire. She shook her hand. "Damn, those forehead ridges are hard."  
  
The girl vamp lunged forward. Faith planted her feet, twisted just enough to let a right hand go past, and then grabbed the wrist and elbow. She pulled down on the wrist, pushed up on the elbow, and tucked her right shoulder into the vampire's armpit. A roll of the hips and the demon flew through the air, landing on its back. Before it could do more than shake its head, Faith was dropping to one knee, her stake flashing down, piercing the heart and setting off the inevitable reaction.  
  
"You shoulda called," Faith said, as she stood and used her left hand to rake her hair away from her face.  
  
Buffy threw a right-left-right combination. Her opponent stumbled backward, dropping his guard and leaving himself wide open. It was the last time he would commit that error. "It was personal," Buffy said, tapping the stake against her thigh to knock off any clinging dust. "Not professional."  
  
"With you and Angel there's a difference?"  
  
***  
  
Willow woke with a start, wondering why her room was bathed in a dim light. Then she realized that she wasn't sleeping in her room; she was sleeping on the floor of the library. Propping herself up on her elbows, she turned toward the cage. In the faint glow of the hallway security lights she could see the wolf sleeping.  
  
Willow watched the silver-black flank rising and falling. A shaft of moonlight traced a luminous diagonal from the window to settle on the thick, shiny fur. Kind of ironic, how beautiful wolf-Oz looked in the shimmering rectangle. She was tempted to reach through the bars and stroke that silky pelt, but she restrained herself. It was so difficult for Oz to sleep, and after the grueling transformation, he needed all the rest he could find. Willow watched him for a few moments, then lay back down in her sleeping bag and closed her eyes.  
  
***  
MONDAY  
***  
  
It was that rarest of occasions, an overcast day in Sunnydale. Buffy thought about the unfairness of it all while she waited for Willow. Why was she required to attend school on a day that was perfect for sleeping in? She was pondering this thought when she saw her friend crossing the lawn, weaving through the clots and clumps of students scattered around the lawn. The Willow-smile was in place, that open, eyebrow-arching grin that made her look like a demented pixie.  
  
"So," the Slayer asked, "how was your weekend?"  
  
Willow's grin broadened. "Great!" She started up the steps.  
  
"Wait a minute." Buffy grabbed the redhead's sleeve. "Wasn't this Oz's furry time?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Uh-huh. Still a great weekend."  
  
A sly grin spread over Buffy's face. "Willow, are you engaging in anything against the laws of nature?"  
  
Willow made an ick face. "Ewwww!"  
  
As they made their way toward the front door, Buffy leaned in closer. "So, is Oz an animal any other time?"  
  
The mystery of Willow's grin deepened. "It would be ungentlemanly to kiss and tell."  
  
"But you're not a gentleman," Buffy said, pointing out the obvious.  
  
Willow pulled open the door. "True." They entered the building.  
  
"So," Buffy demanded, "give over." She was about to nudge Willow with an elbow when she noticed her friend's open-mouthed gape. The Slayer turned her head.   
  
A huge banner hung from the ceiling of the main hallway, spanning the entire width of the corridor. This was no amateurish spray-paint-on-a-bed-sheet affair, but the work of a professional. It read-  
  
For Homecoming Queen '98, There's Only One Choice!!!  
  
Underneath was a giant picture of Harmony.  
  
"Oooh," Willow said. "Do you think Cordelia's seen this?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "We'd have heard the screaming." They stared at the gaudy sign for a minute, then merged again with the flow of students.  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, "that was weird, but I'm still focused. Spill about Oz."  
  
Willow leaned against a locker and actually sighed. "Oh, Buffy, he's so wonderful. He's kind and considerate."  
  
The Slayer cocked her head. "Will, I'm here for nasty details."  
  
Willow pushed off the locker and walked away. Buffy hustled to catch her. "So?"  
  
Willow looked up, studying the walls. "Well, let's just say that the countdown is underway."  
  
"And the rocket is on the launching pad?"  
  
Willow looked at her and made a face. "Yuck! That's disgusting. Your mind is in the gutter."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Hey, I'm not the one who turned a simple space metaphor into Freudian imagery."  
  
"True," Willow was forced to admit.  
  
"Hey, B!" They turned toward the voice and saw Faith making her way toward them through the throng. A shiny new backpack dangled off one shoulder.  
  
Buffy turned to Willow. "See you after school?"  
  
"Sure. Espresso Pump?"  
  
Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Where else?"  
  
Willow veered off toward her classes. Buffy turned toward Faith. The new Slayer stopped in front of the old and struck a pose, arms out, one knee bent.  
  
"Whaddya think?" Faith asked. "Do I pass?" She wore a denim jacket over a red, yellow and orange psycho print top and low-slung flared hip-huggers. Buffy reached out and touched the backpack. The nylon canvas was still stiff.  
  
"Nice," she said. Faith looked around, checking out the walls.  
  
"Is homecoming really such a big deal around here?" she asked, nodding at some of the posters.  
  
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," Buffy said. "Cordelia hasn't thrown her pointy hat in the ring. Didn't your old school have homecoming?"  
  
Faith shrugged. "If I'd gone much I might know, but I doubt it. Folks don't go back to a combat zone."  
  
Buffy tried for a joke. "Old soldiers like to visit the battlefield."  
  
Faith threw her a hard-eyed glance. "Not while the war's still on." Then she grinned and the tension vanished. "So, where do I find American History I?"  
  
"Ah," Buffy said, taking her by the arm. "I can help you there."  
  
***  
  
"So this is the dreaded cafeteria," Faith said. "Frankly, I don't feel the fear."  
  
"That comes eight to ten hours after you eat," Xander said.  
  
"Get out," Faith said, taking a bite of her cornbread.  
  
Xander leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Seriously, last year, we fought what Giles called a Rehoboth demon. Could actually, physically, turn you inside out." He sat back. "Didn't scare me as much as the burritos." Faith laughed, spraying an arc of crumbs across the table. Xander grinned.  
  
"Well that's pretty," Buffy said. "Has Cordelia seen the banner?"  
  
"Or as she insists on calling it 'that thing'?" Xander sipped his soda. "Oh yeah."  
  
Buffy grimaced. "I'm guessing her reaction was of the extreme."  
  
Xander thought for a moment, his eyes rolled up, then shook his head. "Nah. She didn't bite the head off a puppy or anything."  
  
"So... where is she now?"  
  
"Ah." Xander nodded. "Fair Cordelia has chosen to spend her lunch at Kinko's. I predict that by tomorrow morning this campus will be awash in flyers, posters and handbills bearing her likeness."  
  
"Why?" Faith asked.  
  
Xander shrugged. "Winning. Cor's got a competitive drive that makes Michael Jordan look like Gilligan."  
  
Buffy chewed and swallowed. "She's not afraid Harmony will win, is she?"  
  
"No, but she is afraid Harmony might pull enough votes to keep her from setting a record for winning margin." Xander winked.  
  
"Why's she got such a bug up her ass?" Faith asked. "Life's been pretty good to her."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Who can say?"  
  
"What have you people done to this table?" That grating voice sent a chill down their spines.  
  
"Principal Snyder," Xander said. "What timing."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia reached down and yanked the laces of her white Adidas, testing the knot. Frowning, she re-tied the shoes, pulling the laces until the leather stretched and double-knotting them.  
  
"Take it easy with that." Cordelia whirled, her eyes widening. "Cut off blood flow to your toes, you'll get gangrene." Ms. Hollis stood there, arms folded.  
  
"M-M-Ms. Hollis," Cordelia stammered. "I, uh--"  
  
"It's okay, Cordelia." Ms. Hollis put her hands on her hips. "I see that you're a candidate for Homecoming Queen." Cordelia nodded. Ms. Hollis continued. "I understand they crown the Queen at halftime. Since you're the captain of the squad, how do they handle that?"  
  
"Oh." Cordelia thought for a moment. "One of the other girls is the temporary captain."  
  
"I like a solution that's simple and elegant." Ms. Hollis turned. "Think about it during practice, then pick somebody."  
  
"Wait." Cordelia hurried after her. "Today? I mean, just like that?"  
  
Ms. Hollis shrugged. "Sure. Gives us almost two weeks to get ready."  
  
"But shouldn't we have some sort of system?"  
  
"Look, Cordelia, we've already played five games. I imagine that you have an idea who you'll pick. Don't make a big deal out of it." Ms. Hollis pivoted and went into her office.  
  
***  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, gathering up her books. "Will and I are going by the Pump. You want?"  
  
Xander shook his head. "Promised Cordelia I'd go with her to pick out a formal."  
  
"Ooooh, you're moving on up," Buffy said.  
  
Xander grinned, but the expression held precious little mirth. "Yeah, to the east side."  
  
"Got your tux?"  
  
"Don't need one. All the 'members of the Court' have to be escorted by a football player." Xander held open the classroom door.  
  
Buffy looked at him as she passed. "You don't seem terribly paranoid about that."  
  
Xander shrugged. "She asked Larry."  
  
"Aaaaahhhh."  
  
Xander nodded, his expression indicating that he too saw the humor in the situation. "It was her idea. And I'm getting a tux anyway. For the dance."  
  
Buffy looked at her friend as he shambled along, hands in his pockets. "So, how are things with you guys? I mean, we sort of hit the ground running with the slaying and the killing and the magic, and we haven't had a chance to talk. Sooooo, how's it going?"  
  
Xander looked at her, then up and down the hallway. He grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her over by the wall. "Do you really want to know? I mean, you weren't just asking to be polite, were you?"  
  
Buffy looked at him, her nose scrunched up. "No, but I'm starting to wish I had."  
  
"It's just... I mean, I haven't had much dating experience... okay, none. The closest I've come was that long-term relationship I had with a poster of Michelle Yeoh."  
  
"Ick." Buffy frowned.  
  
"Hey, it was a really hot poster. Supercop 2."  
  
"If you say so." Buffy made a rolling motion with her hand. "So, what's the problem?"  
  
"Soooo, when we started dating, it was kind of innocent--"  
  
Buffy held up a hand. "No, it wasn't. It was disgusting and covered with saliva. Go on."  
  
"But now I'm really in uncharted waters. Cordelia might be Homecoming Queen, and I'm going to dance with her. In formal wear. We're going to dance, in formal wear. It's like the world is upside down."  
  
"Does that bother you?"  
  
Xander squinted. "It's sort of at odds with the 'me' I've always been."  
  
Buffy patted his cheek. "I think you're just scared of looking stupid on the dance floor."  
  
***  
  
"Everybody listen up." Ms. Hollis raised her hands. The cheerleaders gathered around her, faces flushed and hair damp. "Before we hit the showers, I'm sure you all know that our captain, Cordelia Chase, is a candidate for Homecoming Queen. That means that one of you will be the temporary captain for that game." She looked around at them. "I've asked her to choose who that will be, so give her your attention." She motioned for Cordelia to step forward.  
  
As she stepped into the loose circle, Cordelia felt a soft breeze whisper across her cheek, stirring a stray tendril of hair. She looked around, searching for one face. "Lacey, you're captain for the Copper Creek game," Cordelia said, nodding in the other girl's direction. The squad broke up, drifting toward the locker room as Lacey accepted congratulations from some of the other girls.  
  
"Interesting choice," Ms. Hollis said from behind Cordelia.  
  
The brunette shrugged without turning around. "She'll do the best job."  
  
"She'll do a good job, but you two haven't exactly been the best of friends."  
  
"It's for one game. No big deal." Cordelia looked back at the teacher. "Besides, who wants to be Homecoming Queen if the cheerleaders suck?"  
  
***  
  
Willow hustled through the door of the Espresso Pump, red hair flying. She hopped up on a stool at the table Buffy was already occupying. Her leap carried enough force that her perch teetered on two legs for a second.  
  
"Did I miss something?" Buffy asked. "Is table-getting becoming an Olympic sport?"  
  
"I just thought I was running late, well, later than I am." Willow took a deep breath and blew it out. "I'm working on something and I get lost in it. Same old story."  
  
"Well, I took a chance and ordered for you." Buffy slid a tall cup toward her friend. "Grande latte. Just got 'em."  
  
Willow's face erupted in a grin as she sipped from the cup. "Thank you. That was so sweet."  
  
"I went to see Angel."  
  
Willow choked and sputtered. "Jeez, Buffy, you could at least let a person swallow before you just, you know, drop something like that on her." She wiped her mouth and dabbed at her shirt with a napkin. "So, how did it go?"  
  
Buffy watched the dark liquid swirl in her cup. "What's the strongest word there is for 'bad'? As you can imagine, there was some lingering bitterness."  
  
Willow nodded, her lips compressed into a thin line. "It's not like you had a choice."  
  
"I know that. Still, when he says I put him through hell, it's not a metaphor." Buffy looked up at her friend.  
  
Willow spoke with great caution. "You seem to be taking all this rather well."  
  
"I'm not, but in a way, it's a relief. I was a real mess, but it's been few days and I've had time to think. He's not Angelus anymore, and it's not like our schedules overlap. I guess it's like, I don't know, like something that hurts but not as bad as you think."  
  
"Oh, oh, I know." Willow waved her hands. "It's like you have an abcessed tooth, and it just hurts and hurts, but you're afraid if you go to the dentist, it'll hurt more, so you don't go, but the pain just gets worse and worse, and so you have to go to the dentist and when he does pull it, it hurts, but then it's a relief, because the tooth doesn't hurt anymore, and getting it pulled didn't hurt as bad as you thought it would."  
  
"Okay." Buffy reached over and picked up her friend's cup. "No more caffeine for you. That analogy was far too elaborate."  
  
***  
  
"Okay, what about this one?"  
  
Xander looked up as Cordelia came out of the dressing room. This dress was a simple red sleeveless halter-back, although the plunging neckline was a nice touch.  
  
Xander gulped. "Uh, you look really great."  
  
She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You've said that about every dress."  
  
"In my defense, you look great in every one of them."  
  
"Okay, I'll accept that, but which one is best?"  
  
Xander squirmed in the wing chair. On an average day, the big windows at the front of the store would have flooded the store with sunlight. Only gray clouds were visible today. Somehow he thought that was a significant metaphor. He could see three Cordelias reflected in the mirrors behind her. "Are you sure that someone with my fashion sense should be making this judgement?"  
  
Cordelia's hands rested on her hips. "Xander, I'm not asking you to dress yourself. I'm asking which dress looks best on me. I think you're qualified for that."  
  
"Okay, well, uh..." He thought for a second. "I really liked that green one."  
  
"Okay," she said. "Was that so hard?"  
  
As she swept back into the dressing room, Xander rolled his eyes to the sky. "Please, please, please," he whispered, "let the green one be the right answer."  
  
***  
TUESDAY  
***  
  
Mr. Quisling took a deep breath of the clean outdoor air. It was likely to be his last for a while. He'd been in houses like this one before and a rank odor was one thing they all had in common.  
  
The house in question sat on the outskirts of Sunnydale. Weeds poked through gaps in the porch flooring. The whole structure sagged as though weary of supporting its own weight. Shingles were missing from the roof in large patches; the windows that weren't boarded up were broken.  
  
"Cretins," Quisling hissed under his breath. "In thrall to a stupid romantic fantasy." He walked through the overgrown yard, pushing away the thoughts of small things that might run up his trouser leg, and stepped onto the wobbly porch. The door swung open in response to his knock, but no one stood in the doorway. Quisling stepped to the side, turning in profile. He heard the thump and whistle, but was unable to see the bolt until it was past him. It whirred away into the brush.  
  
Quisling stepped inside the house. The crossbow was lashed to a table. A skinny, hard-looking vampire in a Detroit Tigers baseball cap struggled to reload it.  
  
"A shotgun would be better," Quisling said. "The chances of one of your kind visiting during the day is quite small and the shotgun both does more damage and is more intimidating to humans." He looked around the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the water-stained ceiling.  
  
His hand shot out to plant the polished aluminum cross in the face of the charging vamp. There was a sizzle and the smell of roasting flesh. The vampire screamed and clawed at his face. Quisling stepped in close, his left hand rising to the creature's neck.  
  
"Feel that?" he asked in the same voice he might use to observe that the sky was a beautiful shade of blue. "Of course you do. This syringe is full of holy water. I don't have to tell you that an intramuscular injection of this would be a particularly nasty and painful way to die." He smiled. "I will not be fucked with, understand?"  
  
The vampire blinked, trying to keep his eyes open in spite of the pain and the little strips of skin peeling from his forehead. Mr. Quisling's eyes widened and he shifted his weight, leaning on the syringe. "Understood," the vampire whispered.  
  
"Good." Quisling stepped back, pocketing the syringe and the cross in a smooth, fluid motion. "Now, I wish to see your master."  
  
The vampire led him to the basement stairs and pointed down. The interior of the house was dim, but the staircase was an unrelieved pit of darkness, a pitch-black descent into who knew what. Quisling reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and brought out a small globe of clear glass about the size of a large marble. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, then uttered one word in a harsh, guttural tone. The sphere flared, then settled into a steady yellow-white glow. The vampire stepped back, squinting. Quisling winked at him; a gesture made grotesque by the eerie lighting and the fact that every part of Quisling's face except his eye remained immobile. He descended the stairs, the glowing bauble held in front of him. When he could see the bottom of the stairs, he stopped.  
  
"I know you are down there. I mean you no harm. I will defend myself if attacked, however." He went down the remaining steps and stood on the concrete floor of the basement. He could smell them, see motion in the dimness beyond his small circle of light. At last, one of them stepped forward. He was a short, squat vampire, missing three fingers on his left hand and sporting a vicious scar that ran from mid-forehead through his left eye and ended just below the corner of his mouth.  
  
"I would speak to your master," Quisling said.  
  
"Really?" The vampire smirked. "Why don't I just kill you now?"  
  
Quisling sighed. "Do you know how dated you sound? I've already gotten past your booby trap and your guard upstairs--"  
  
"So? LePage couldn't guard shit."  
  
"If you interrupt me again I will hang you from a streetlight and watch the sun finish you," Quisling said. The vampire paused in the act of spitting, a shocked look on his face. "Now, if we can avoid further displays of machismo, I wish to speak to your master."  
  
"Coyne, bring him." The leathery whisper came from the deep darkness behind the vampire. Coyne responded to it the way a trained hound responds to the voice of its master.  
  
"Come," he said. Quisling followed him to a plain, cheap door. The door was open, but the darkness within seemed to swallow the light from Quisling's orb.  
  
"Coyne," the voice said, "turn on the lights." Coyne gestured, there was a snap and the basement was flooded with light from a half-dozen bulbs. An anticipatory grin spread spread over his face as he stepped aside and gestured for Quisling to enter. He tucked his glass sphere back into his jacket and did so.  
  
The room was small, probably a utility or laundry room when the house was occupied by the living. It was wider than it was deep, and Quisling had to look to his left, around the door, to see the room's lone occupant. That occupant sat in an oak rocking chair, moving back and forth in small, slow movements. The light in this room came from two ornate floor lamps set behind and to the sides of the chair, meaning that the face of the figure in the chair remained in deep shadow.  
  
"Why have you come here? Why have you placed yourself in such danger?" the figure asked. Quisling almost rolled his eyes at the melodrama of it all.  
  
"I have come as an emissary of my mentor," he said. "We wish to welcome the Reverend Othniel Hampton to Sunnydale."  
  
The figure's head lifted. "You dare address me by name?"  
  
Quisling could see the glitter of light reflected from the Reverend's hooded eyes. "As a gesture of respect, not familiarity."  
  
"I crave no man's welcome, nor do I require it." The Reverend shifted in his chair, leaning forward the slightest bit.  
  
Quisling licked his lips. Trick had warned that this fellow was crazy, but he hadn't mentioned thin-skinned. "We do not claim dominion, nor is this a demand for fealty. However, when a being of such stature as yourself is in close proximity, we would like to acknowledge you."  
  
The Reverend's laugh was little more than a burbling sigh. "I was old when your mentor still drew breath, yet he deigns to acknowledge me. I appreciate it." His elbows rested on the arms of the rocker, fingertips pressed together in front of his face. "What is your real purpose?"  
  
"We have not come to the Hellmouth merely to feed. We have an assignment to complete. When that task is finished, we will move on. We see no need for conflict between our followers. There is blood enough for all."  
  
"What do you know of blood?" The Reverend's voice was sharp. "You pretend to know our world, yet you have never tasted the bounty of a man." He stood, his tall gaunt frame casting an angular shadow that reached nearly to where Quisling stood. "Tell your master that I have come to destroy the unworthy. If you are counted among them, you will be driven from the earth. I am not the judge, only the instrument. You tell him that." The Reverend sat down again, gripping the arms of his chair. "Yet until that day is determined, we are not enemies."  
  
Quisling bowed, a very formal gesture. "That is all we wish," he said.  
  
***  
  
"Could it be some sort of alliance?" Giles held his glasses up to the light and began polishing them.  
  
Lindsay Maeda shook her head. "If there's one thing the Reverend can't do, it's work and play well with others. As far as vampires go, he's a stone traditionalist."  
  
Giles thought for a moment, hands on his hips. "It would be helpful if we knew more about Mr. Trick. It might help us divine his plan."  
  
"It would, but we don't. What if he doesn't really have a plan? What if he's just drawn to a power vacancy?"  
  
Giles shook his head. "He has a reason. He didn't just come into Sunnydale. He insinuated himself into a high-technology facility, a facility which happens to have complete city utilities."  
  
Lindsay frowned. "You think he has an ally in city government?"  
  
Giles wandered over to the city map hanging on the library wall. "It's not the most bizarre thing to happen here."  
  
"So what's his plan and how does the Reverend enter into it?"  
  
"I don't know his plan." Giles reached up and tapped the map with his forefinger. "And perhaps the Reverend isn't part of it at all. Perhaps he's as much of a wild card for Trick as he is for us."  
  
***  
WEDNESDAY  
***  
  
Xander stood in the middle of the hall and turned a full circle, taking in the complete 360-degree panorama of posters, flyers and stickers plastered with Cordelia's name and face. Buffy saw him standing there, gaping.  
  
"Hey," she said. "Auditioning for Of Mice And Men?"  
  
"Did you realize that if you turn around really fast, all the different-colored Cordelia faces blur together? It's a psychedelic princess experience." He demonstrated.  
  
"Okay," Buffy said, patting her friend on the arm. "Just don't stare at it too long or you'll go blind." She left him there and went on to the library.  
  
Giles sat at the table, two books open in front of him. Buffy could see Willow in the office, working at the computer. "Hey Giles," the Slayer said. "You're looking even more serious than usual."  
  
"Perhaps," he said. "I'm trying to find out what's going on."  
  
"Wait," Buffy said, stopping and holding up a hand. "I know this one." She closed her eyes and placed a hand on her forehead. "A: a group of vampires have decided to destroy the world. B: demons are running amok, threatening the populace. Or C: monsters are poised to demolish our fair city." Willow snickered.  
  
Giles was not amused by this display of wit. "Unfortunately, we may be dealing with 'D'."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "There is no 'D'."  
  
"What, are we dissing the basketball team already?"  
  
Buffy turned. Oz stood just inside the door.  
  
"No," Willow said, "Giles believes that the future of the world is in jeopardy."  
  
Oz nodded. "You know, it's the consistency of this place that I love. What else in my life is so dependable?"  
  
"The incredibly bad cafeteria food?" Buffy offered.  
  
Willow chimed in. "Mrs. Bumphus in English hates you?"  
  
Giles cleared his throat. "If everyone is quite finished with the music hall routine, I would like to get back to my work."  
  
"Hey, don't mind me," Oz said. "I'm just getting a book." He went into the stacks.  
  
"Why so tense?" Buffy asked, dropping her books on the table and taking a seat.  
  
"Yeah," Willow said as she leaned on the doorframe. "We'll find out what Trick is up to, Buffy will kick his ass, end of story."  
  
Giles looked at them, eyes wide. "Is it possible that you are truly this blasé?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I'd say I'm the blasé-est."  
  
"Not me," Oz said, coming down the stairs from the stacks. "I think this may be the most dangerous thing we've ever faced, and we should spend every waking minute planning on a way to defeat it."  
  
"Thank you, Oz," Giles said. "I'm glad someone grasps the seriousness of the situation."  
  
"Actually, I don't," Oz said. "I agree with them. I was trying to show a little brotherly solidarity."  
  
Buffy stretched. "C'mon Giles. We know this is the real deal, but, honestly, we've gotten pretty good at it."  
  
"And besides, Buffy's not alone any more," Willow said.  
  
"That's true." Buffy turned to Giles. "We have Faith on our side now. Double the slayage, double the fun."  
  
Willow took two steps into the room. "But we believe you."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said. "Even if you are the boy who cried end of the world."  
  
***  
  
"Sir, I think you will want to see this."  
  
Mr. Trick opened his eyes and sighed. "What is it, Delilah? Tell me something to make me happy."  
  
She smiled, an expression at once sardonic and mirthful. "I think that you will be very pleased with what Trumbo has found."  
  
And pleased he was. "Trumbo, you are a genius," Trick said as he leaned over the vampire's shoulder to look at his monitor. "You're sure about this?"  
  
Trumbo, a skinny vamp with a prominent adam's apple and bulging eyes, nodded. "I have a few confirmations to make, but all our people and sources say it's true."  
  
"Damn." Trick's voice was barely louder than a breath as he leaned in closer to stare at the monitor, his face bathed in blue light. "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down."  
  
"Omar Khayyam?" Delilah asked.  
  
Trick shook his head, never taking his eyes from the monitor. "David. Psalm one-thirty-seven, verse one."  
  
***  
  
"I'm conflicted," Xander announced. "Part of me is appalled by this degrading spectacle, yet I'm somehow strangely aroused."  
  
"Watching Cordelia stump for votes gets you hot?" Buffy asked, her expression mirroring the bewilderment in her voice.  
  
They sat on the lawn under one of the trees. Faith sprawled in front of them, propped on her elbows. Across the lawn, Cordelia worked the crowd, going from group to group and person to person, lobbying for votes, flattering and cajoling.   
  
Xander shrugged. "My thermostat opens at an extremely low temperature. What can I say?"  
  
Faith twisted around to look at them over her shoulder. "Why aren't you helping her?" she asked.  
  
"Cordelia seems to believe that her chances are better if I remain the power behind the throne," Xander said. "Oh, look," he said, pointing. "This should get good."  
  
Cordelia and Harmony were on a collision course. The blond, backed by the Harmonaires, was also campaigning. They were only a few yards apart when they noticed each other.  
  
"What's up?" Willow asked as she and Oz walked up and sat down.  
  
"Shhh," Xander hissed. "The latest skirmish in the Harmony-Cordelia wars is about to take place."  
  
Oz and Willow sat down, the autumn sun warm on their faces as they watched Harmony and Cordelia circle each other. Wary glances were exchanged, hair was tossed, but they continued past each other.  
  
"Well, that was disappointing," Buffy said.  
  
"Makes sense," Oz said. "Why risk a public incident?"  
  
"So what are you guys doing tonight?" Buffy asked.  
  
Willow shrugged. "I'm at loose ends. Oz has to rehearse for a Dingoes gig."  
  
Buffy glanced at Faith, then back to Willow. "Wanna come patrol with us? We can hit the Bronze after."  
  
Willow thought then nodded. "Okay. If it's all right with you, Faith."  
  
The dark-haired Slayer said, "The more the merrier."  
  
***  
  
"We better find a vampire soon or I'm gonna punch a tree just for the hell of it," Faith growled. Not a single vampire had crossed the trio's path so far.  
  
"Maybe instead of looking for them we should let them come to us," Buffy suggested. "Let's take a break."  
  
"Okay with me," Willow said. The three girls sat down beneath an old oak tree under the waning moon.  
  
"How's your little problem?" Buffy asked Willow.  
  
The redhead shrugged and frowned. "I think it's some better, or maybe I'm just learning to live with it."  
  
Faith scanned the area for signs of movement. "Can you feel it coming?" she asked.  
  
"Just for a few seconds. Then it's 'boom'."  
  
Buffy poked at the ground with the point of a stake. "Has Miss Calendar's stuff helped?"  
  
Willow's face crinkled. "I can't tell." Her eyes shot open. "Oh, but I have learned to do this." She looked around until she found a stick about four inches long and the diameter of her little finger. She placed it on the ground between them.  
  
"Now," she said, "watch this." At first they could discern nothing, but then Buffy saw the stick twitch. It continued to tremble and then, ever so slowly, it began to rise. It hovered some eight inches off the ground. Buffy glanced at Willow. The redhead's eyes were wide and unblinking, her face slack with concentration. A fine film of perspiration glistened on her forehead. The stick began to turn, to pinwheel around perpendicular to the earth. At first it was a slow, steady motion but the speed began to increase until it was a whizzing blur.  
  
"Uh, Will--" Buffy began, but a dry popping interrupted her. The stick had vanished and fine, powdery sawdust drifted to the ground. Willow blinked and shook her head.  
  
"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm still having trouble with the stopping."  
  
Another dry snap drew their attention. Four vamps straggled along, laughing. Buffy glanced at Faith. The new Slayer's eyes were hard and cold.  
  
"Definitely not the Reverend's boys," she said, vaulting to her feet.  
  
They were local vampires, new-made really, and they presented little challenge to the three girls. One of them managed to land an open-handed slap to the back of Faith's head, but that was all. In mere moments, the ashes of the four were settling in a pulverized cloud.  
  
"Okay," Faith said, slapping the sleeves of her jacket. "Done with the killin', now comes the chillin'."  
  
***  
  
Coyne entered his master's sanctum with eyes downcast. A stifling heat filled the room, produced by the small charcoal grill in the corner.  
  
"Do you have a report?"  
  
Coyne looked up into his master's eyes. "All have returned safe tonight," he said.  
  
"Good," the Reverend said. "These girls have become quite vexing."  
  
"Sir," Coyne said, his voice shaky, "not to question you in anything, but what will we do about--"  
  
"About that arrogant popinjay who sits before his computer and looks down his nose at us?" A grim smile creased the Reverend's face. "I have no doubt that things will end badly between us and Mr. Trick. He has the stench of the unrighteous about him. Still, I think that we have miles to travel together before our paths diverge." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Thank you, Coyne. Now leave me."  
  
Coyne did not have to be told twice. He left the room at twice the speed with which he'd entered. As the door closed behind his henchman, the Reverend Othniel Hampton turned to the glowing coals in the basin. The blade of a knife was buried in those coals, wedged into the pulsing red-white heart that lay beneath the thin powdering of gray ash. Laying aside his shirt, the Reverend reached down and grasped the haft. The skin along the edge of his index finger and his thumb puckered in the heat, the smell of burning hair a bitter perfume. Even through the leather wrapping of the hilt he could feel its radiance. He held the blade before his face. It glowed a dull cherry in the center, shading out to a brilliant white along the very edge.  
  
"Purify me," he said, "as with fire." He laid the blade against his chest, just above the left nipple, one of the few areas left unscarred. As the odor of searing flesh filled the room his lips drew back from his teeth in a rictus of torment. The sizzle and crack of his own skin frying was in his ears. The tendons in his neck stood out, rigid. His eyes squeezed shut and tears welled up, but no sound escaped him save for the deep, even rhythm of his breathing.  
  
***  
  
"Well, this sucks." Faith tossed a sour look at the stage. A band called Mortal Coil was playing tonight. The lead singer had a very apparent fixation on either Robert Smith of the Cure or Chris Kattan's Goth Talk character from SNL.  
  
"Really?" Willow's interest was piqued. "I thought you might like them."  
  
"Please." Faith's lip curled. "I've had enough real problems in my life. A bunch of suburban kids whining because their daddy bought 'em a red Mustang instead of a black one just don't impress me." She glanced at the band. "Mostly though, it's because they got no groove."  
  
"I'm with you there," Buffy said.  
  
"Hey girls." They turned to see Lindsay Maeda approaching the table. She wore a cropped black T-shirt over seriously baggy expedition green pants. Her hair was loose on her shoulders and her right hand held a bottle of Amstel Light.  
  
"Hey, Lindsay, Faith didn't tell us you were meeting us here." Buffy pushed a chair in the new Watcher's direction.  
  
"That's because I'm not," Lindsay said as she sat down. "I just came to check out the band."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened. "You came to the Bronze of your own free will to check out the band?"  
  
Lindsay shrugged. "Sure. Nobody was playing at the U, so I dropped by." She looked over her shoulder. "They're pretty good, don't you think?"  
  
A moment of silence followed. Willow looked down at the table while Buffy though fast and furious. "Well," she said, "they take what they're doing very seriously."  
  
"Yeah," Willow added. "They really do, um, uh..." She trailed off into silence.  
  
Faith looked at her Watcher, a crooked grin on her face. "Come on, Linz. Don't be cruel. You know these guys are selling major suck."  
  
Lindsay looked at Buffy and Willow and laughed. "Yeah, but it's always fun to mess with someone's head." The Slayer and her best friend relaxed, sharing in the joke.  
  
"Well, Giles definitely never just drops by the Bronze," Buffy said.  
  
"Of course not." Lindsay shook her head. "He's too busy working."  
  
"Yeah, and all work and no play make Giles a..." Buffy stopped. "Actually, Giles was a dull boy before."  
  
"Please," Lindsay said, taking a pull on her beer. "Rupert Giles is not dull."  
  
"We know about his mysterious past, the Ripper and all that," Willow said. "It was a long time ago."  
  
Lindsay tipped her bottle in Will's direction. "Don't fool yourself. The Ripper's not gone."  
  
"Excuse me," Buffy said, the fingers of her right hand resting on the table, "we are all talking about Rupert Giles, right? Glasses, wears a lot of sweater vests?"  
  
Lindsay smiled and shook her head. "I know his fashion sense is challenged at best, but I bet you've seen the other side of him."  
  
There was a subdued moment, then Buffy said, "Yeah. I've forced it to the surface from time to time."  
  
***  
  
Janine Treadwell was quite satisfied. The project was done and an 'A' was assured. Crissie had done her fair share and all was right with the world. All being right with the world was important to Janine. Her life plan was right on schedule. She would graduate from Sunnydale next year with a GPA in excess of 4.00 due to her weighted class schedule, which combined with her exceptional SATs (which she would get, she was certain) and first class extracurricular resume would enable her to attend Penn, where she planned to study architecture. This plan was written down in some detail in a notebook in the top right-hand drawer of her desk.  
  
Janine was so deep in thought about her flawless path to the future that she nearly jumped out of her skin when the rustling came from the bushes. She remembered her recent brush with the bunny and laughed. Bending over, she walked toward the bushes, one hand extended.  
  
She never even had a chance to scream as the figure sprang at her and threw the bag over her head.  
  
***  
THURSDAY  
***  
  
"You know there's a pep bus going to the game." Cordelia shoved a book into her locker and pulled out two to replace it. Xander leaned back and shook his head.  
  
"I really don't see myself as a pep bus guy. More the guy who sticks the potato in the pep bus tail pipe."  
  
"A winning team is wasted on people like you." Cordelia slammed her locker closed.  
  
"Actually, I'm thinking of the team," Xander protested. "If I went to the game, I'd only be looking at you. Someone who really cares about the game should have my seat."  
  
Cordelia couldn't stop her smile from breaking through. "Well, I'll forgive your lack of spirit then."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say I have a lack of spirit," Xander said as he took her hand. "I'd just say it's focused in another direction."  
  
***  
  
"Faith, is your homework done?" A faint echo trailed Lindsay's voice. Faith cast an irritated glance at the bathroom door.  
  
"No," she said.  
  
Lindsay came out of the bathroom wearing a huge white sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up and a towel around her head. "You better get started then," she said.  
  
"Lindsayyyyy!" Faith threw herself back on the bed. "I'm down with the student undercover tip, but hey, school's out?"  
  
Lindsay pointed at the books stacked on the dresser. "It's more than a cover. You need to be in school. Get going."  
  
Faith pouted. "I can't do it. I'm like way behind and I didn't know most of this shit to begin with."  
  
"Well, that's why I'm here." Lindsay smiled sweetly. "Believe it or not, I was pretty good in school."  
  
Faith stared at the ceiling. "You know those undercover cops who turn into drug dealers because they've been in deep cover so long? That could happen."  
  
Lindsay brushed her wet hair back from her forehead. "I don't think algebra will cause you to turn into a pacifist."  
  
Faith pushed up off the bed scowling. "You're supposed to be the brains. I'm just the muscle."  
  
Lindsay looked into the mirror as she said, "You're going to be more than that. Besides, who'll be the brains if I'm gone?" The silence that followed caused Lindsay to look into the mirror. She saw a pale Faith frozen behind her, halfway across the room. Lindsay turned to look at the girl, concern on the Watcher's face.  
  
"Don't," the girl said, shaking her head. "Don't ever say that."  
  
***  
FRIDAY  
***  
  
Cordelia pressed the button on her key chain. The Sebring chirped in response. She slung her gym bag over her shoulder and headed for the pep bus. The strap started to dig into her shoulder about halfway through the trek. Even through the heavy maroon and gold sweater she could feel it. Irritated, she stopped and switched sides.  
  
She could have parked closer. There were lots of spaces close to the bus, but people who at the very least wouldn't have minded leaving a ding in the door of her car drove most of the cars. She suspected that some of them would even enjoy it.  
  
As she stepped up onto the bus, Cordelia looked back. It was worth a little shoulder pain to see her car sitting down there by itself, safe and sound.  
  
***  
  
"Hey," Oz said when Willow opened the door. "Your folks around?"  
  
"No," Willow said as they went into the living room. "Mom has a conference this weekend and Dad went with her."  
  
"Cool," Oz said. "I brought the homework." He held up the textbooks.  
  
"Okay," Willow said. "I thought we might work on that for a while and then we could eat."  
  
"Which takes us through about seven o'clock."  
  
"I rented That Thing You Do. We could watch it after dinner."  
  
Oz smiled. "A fine cautionary tale."  
  
***  
  
The pep bus was a melee of shouting and singing. The Razorbacks 33-12 triumph meant that Sunnydale would be undefeated at Homecoming for the first time since, oh, forever. Three or four lame pop songs were being sung or shouted out, contending with breathless replays of game highlights. Cordelia laughed as the aftermath of victory eddied around her.  
  
"Can you believe this?" Andrea Pierce shouted into Cordelia's face. "We are actually going to state!"  
  
"I know." Cordelia had to yell to be heard over the cacophony.  
  
Andrea leaned forward. "I wanted to tell you, I think you've been a really great captain."  
  
Cordelia blinked. "Thank you."  
  
Andrea shook her head. "I really mean it. I think you've been great, and I'm going to vote for you for Homecoming Queen."  
  
Cordelia nodded. "Thank you."  
  
Andrea got up, swaying with the motion of the bus. "I'm going to the back. Wanna come?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "No. I'm going to just stay here."  
  
Andrea nodded. "Okay. See you later." She walked down the aisle, slapping the hand of some guy who reached out to pinch her butt. Cordelia watched her for a minute, then turned, looking out the windshield of the bus, but not seeing any scenery.  
  
***  
  
Oz stood as the final credits of That Thing You Do began to roll. Willow jumped to her feet to stand beside him.  
  
"Are you going?" she asked.  
  
"Unless you have a copy of Empire Records you want to watch," he said as he gathered the books he'd brought.  
  
"You don't have to go," she said.  
  
He stopped and looked at her. She fidgeted a bit, then licked her lips. He stepped close to her.  
  
"Willow," he said, "are you--"  
  
The rest of his sentence was cut off as Willow kissed him. It was a long, urgent kiss and when she stepped back he had to catch his breath. "I want you to stay," she said. "Ever since I was in the hospital, all I can think about is how short life is and how it can be gone before you know it. I don't want to die with some things undone."  
  
Oz shifted his weight. "I'm flattered," he said, "but that's not really a good reason to--"  
  
"Dummy." She cuffed him on the side of the head, a playful tap. "I don't just want to do it. I want to do it with you. I wouldn't want to leave this life without knowing what it was like to be with you."  
  
"Oh." He stood there for a heartbeat with that faraway look on his face, that look like he was listening to a distant voice that only he could hear. He looked into her eyes. "Well, if it's that important to you..." He dropped the books and drew her to him, his eyes closing as his lips found hers.  
  
***  
  
The pep bus pulled out of the Sunnydale High lot. Cordelia and Skyler Paine watched it go. Skyler grinned. She was a tall, broad-shouldered girl with auburn hair who excelled at strength moves.  
  
"I didn't think we'd ever cheer for a winner," she said.  
  
Cordelia nodded. "Amen to that." She reached into her purse and took out her keys. "See you on Monday."  
  
Skyler was already opening the door of her car. "Okay. Where you parked?"  
  
Cordelia pointed. "Far end of the lot."  
  
Skyler nodded. "Be careful." She got into her car.  
  
Cordelia heard the engine start and the sound of tires as Skyler pulled out behind her. The Sebring was up ahead. She pointed her key chain at the car and pressed the button. The lights flashed as the doors unlocked.  
  
The key chain was knocked from her hand as someone or something struck her in the back, throwing her to the asphalt. Something soft and cold was pressed over her face, hampering her efforts to draw breath. She struggled to get up, but whatever was on her back was too heavy. The edges of her vision began to go black, until the only thing she could see was the fuzzy glow of the security light over the Sebring. Then it winked out and darkness claimed her.  
  
***  
  
Oz lay on his back and breathed. He felt the air fill his lungs, then rush out his nose. He moved his arms and legs, small motions, little experiments.  
  
"Are you okay?" Willow asked.  
  
His eyes slid over to look at her, her pale skin glowing in the blue light of the darkened bedroom. "Yeah," he said. "I think I'm okay."  
  
Willow bit her lip. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I? I mean, I thought I knew what I was doing, but that was in theory, y'know?"  
  
"No," Oz whispered. "You didn't hurt me. How are you?"  
  
"I'm good." Willow smiled. "I mean, I read up on this and I was prepared for it to be, you know, less than awesome, because a lot of the books say to expect that."  
  
Oz raised his head. "Were the books right?"  
  
Willow giggled. "How would I know? It's my first time." She lay down, her head resting on his shoulder. "But if that was disappointing, then I can't wait to get to competent."  
  
  
End of "Mystery Date" Part 1  



	2. The Middle

  
Part 2 of "Mystery Date"  
  
Suggested listening:  
  
"Here With Me" by Dido  
"Why Does It Always Rain On Me" by Travis  
  
***  
SATURDAY  
***  
  
Cordelia knew she was conscious when she realized that her head hurt, a dull throb beating at her temple. Forcing her eyelids open, she turned her head in an attempt to take in her surroundings. Big mistake. Her stomach lurched and the dim shapes in the room bled together like a speedboat's wake. She gasped and closed her eyes again.  
  
"It's okay. It wears off pretty quick."  
  
Cordelia opened her eyes, trying to locate the source of the voice. The room was canted at an odd angle. She realized that she was lying on the floor. Dragging herself to a sitting position, she squinted, wondering why it was so hard to see. She saw the single blue bulb in the socket. Blue, and about 25 watts from the look of things. Cordelia might have preferred total darkness.  
  
As her vision adjusted to the gloom and the indigo mood lighting, she saw two other girls in the room. One, a small blond girl, huddled in a corner, knees drawn up to her chest, forehead resting on her knees. The other girl approached, taking small, shuffling steps. She was very pretty, with dark hair curving down to frame an oval face containing two large, dark eyes and a wide mouth. She crouched in front of Cordelia.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I mean, not that any of us are okay in this mess, but I mean it's not like your brain feels like it's been knocked loose or anything, is it? The stuff they knocked you out with wears off pretty fast, like I said, but if you need to puke..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder. Cordelia noticed a door set into the wall. The girl turned back. "There's a bucket in there, but I'd be really sure that you gotta hurl before you use it, because we've both had to, you know."  
  
"No, I don't know." Cordelia pressed a hand to her head. Then she knew what the girl meant. "You mean you..." She couldn't go on. The girl nodded. "Okay," Cordelia said, squeezing her eyes shut. "What is going on?"  
  
"We were hoping you could tell us," the girl said. "Oh, my name's Casey Porter. I'm a sophomore." She pointed at the blond girl. "That's Janine."  
  
"Cordelia Chase."  
  
Casey nodded. "We know who you are. We knew the minute they dumped you in here. We couldn't believe it."  
  
Cordelia held up a hand. "Who dumped me here? Where are we?"  
  
Casey shrugged. "Don't know the answer to either question. Don't know where we are because we were out when they brought us here, just like you. Who they are, I don't know, but there are four of them and they wear masks when they bring us food and stuff."  
  
Cordelia pointed her chin at Janine. "Why hasn't she said anything?"  
  
Casey leaned in closer. "She's already been here for a couple of days. She said they got her on Wednesday night, so she's been here like sixty hours."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Thursday afternoon. Do you have any idea what's going on?"  
  
Cordelia started to shake her head, then thought better of it. "No." She moved her legs and felt a tug. Looking down, she saw that a very short length of chain ran between her ankles, padlocked on each end. She was effectively hobbled. There was an ugly raw patch on her right knee, probably a by-product of hitting the asphalt.  
  
Casey noticed her discovery. "Yeah, it's really a short leash. If you even try to walk normal, you'll fall on your face. You gotta take really short steps."  
  
"Wait," Cordelia said. "What time is it? What day is it?"  
  
"Just after seven a.m. Saturday morning." Casey Porter held up her left arm. A chunky diver's watch encircled her wrist. "Day and date function."  
  
"That's great." Cordelia looked around at the empty room, the bare tile floor, the wallpaper peeling away in strips to reveal the raw concrete beneath, the film of dust over everything. "I've been here almost eight hours?"  
  
Casey nodded. "About six, actually."  
  
"What is happening?" Cordelia got to her feet, an awkward process while fettered. The sound of scraping and footsteps came from outside the door.  
  
"Maybe we're about to find out," Casey said and then the door opened. A shaft of dust-choked sunlight suffused the room. Cordelia blinked, blinded even by this dirty radiance after the darkness and the blue bulb. Before her vision returned she was grabbed, her hands pulled together and fastened somehow. She heard Janine make her first sound, a mewling little sob. Hands bound, Cordelia was pushed down, landing on her butt as her back slammed into the wall. Eyes adjusted, she saw that her hands were held by an orange plastic zip-tie. She looked up.  
  
Four figures stood over the girls. One wore a Freddie Krueger mask, one a latex old man head, and the third had one of those white Scream masks. The fourth wore a white hockey mask a la Michael Myers. He spoke for the group.  
  
"We have assembled you three as sacrifice to lord Azrael. You will become his eternal handmaidens. Your blood will satisfy him and bring us power and honor." As he spoke his three followers shuffled their feet and elbowed each other.  
  
The cliché value of the situation hit Cordelia like a Mike Tyson uppercut. She was still in her cheerleading uniform, being menaced by four guys dressed in black and wearing masks. It was so 1979.  
  
Until Scream guy took out the knife. The blade was curved and fierce; the backstrap was serrated. The guard flared out into a set of wings and the pommel glinted gold. The way Scream handled the blade testified to some familiarity with the weapon. He stepped forward as Hockey Mask spoke.  
  
"Now, Lord Azrael, we come before you. We your acolytes bring you three. Three who have not known the touch of man, three whose blood is chaste and pure." Scream guy bent over Casey, the blade glimmering in the soiled light.  
  
Cordelia looked at Janine. The blond girl was rolled into a fetal ball, whimpering. Cordelia turned back. Casey Porter's eyes were wide and tears ran down her face. Scream hefted the knife as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.  
  
"Wait!" Cordelia shouted. "Is that an enchanted knife?"  
  
"What?" Hockey Mask turned his head toward her.  
  
"Shut the fuck up," grumbled Scream, the knife moving toward Casey's throat.  
  
"Is it an enchanted knife?" Cordelia said, her words tumbling together. "Most of these things have to be done with an enchanted knife or a special kind of blade or something. If it's not, this whole thing could boomerang on you."  
  
"Hold it." Hockey Mask grabbed Scream by the shoulder. The edge of the blade hovered a hair's breadth above the pulse in Casey's throat.  
  
"Aw, come on," Scream groaned.  
  
"She could be right."  
  
"Yeah, and if you do it wrong, well, I don't want to be in your shoes when this guy Azrael starts kicking ass and taking names." Cordelia knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop.  
  
Hockey Mask turned to Freddie Krueger. "You got the knife. Is it enchanted?"  
  
Freddie shrugged. "Could be. Probably."  
  
"I'm not filled with confidence." Hockey Mask turned his full attention to Freddie. "Is it or isn't it?"  
  
Freddie hung his head. "Probably not."  
  
Quiet menace thrummed in Hockey Mask's voice. "Where did you get the knife?"  
  
Freddie turned his head, looking around the room, looking anywhere but at hockey-mask. "I, uh, I... I ordered it out of the Highlander catalog."  
  
A moment of brittle silence was broken by Scream. "Shit," he said, dropping back on his haunches.  
  
"Come on," Hockey Mask said. "Let's go get the right knife." He waited at the door as his followers trooped past. He stared at Cordelia. "Enjoy the quiet," he said and slammed the door, enveloping the room in darkness.  
  
Cordelia's eyes were just beginning to adjust to the dimness when Casey's shaky voice said, "That was so boss."  
  
"What?" Janine's first words were uttered in a jittery, high-pitched mode. "What was cool about that? They're still gonna kill us. She just delayed it, and probably pissed them off." A sob choked off any further words.  
  
"Look, alive is better than dead." Cordelia twisted her hands, trying to find a way to loosen her bound wrists. "Dead is just dead. If we stay alive, someone will find us."  
  
Casey wiggled into a sitting position. "Who will find us?"  
  
Cordelia looked at her. "I'm sure the police are looking for you, and I have... I know someone who will be looking for us... I hope." She shook her head, tossing her hair out of her face. "Besides, we can make our own plan. Maybe I'm the only one who noticed, but these guys aren't exactly the graduate class at MIT."  
  
Casey knee-walked over to her. "How did you think of that thing with the knife?"  
  
"That?" Cordelia brought her wrists to her mouth, picking at the plastic with her teeth. "It's true. Most of those spells..." She glanced at the other girl, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "At least in the movies, most of those spells need some kind of juju weapon."  
  
"And you convinced those guys?"  
  
"I told you they weren't very smart." Cordelia got her feet under her and stood. A mental picture of how she must look flashed through her head. She was dirty, tied hand and foot, and wearing her cheerleading sweater and skirt. Xander's dream come true, she thought. She began to shuffle away.  
  
"Where're you going?" Casey asked.  
  
"Into the other room," Cordelia replied. "To try and find something to cut our hands loose."  
  
***  
  
Oz rolled over and opened his eyes. For a disorienting moment he didn't remember where he was. He sat up. Willow stood in front of the mirror, straightening her sweater.  
  
"Hey," Oz said, "what's up?"  
  
"Oh!" Willow jumped a little. "You startled me. I have to go somewhere."  
  
Oz blinked a couple of times. "I don't think you're supposed to sneak out of your own house. I think that's my job."  
  
Willow smiled. "I'm not sneaking out. I have somewhere to go."  
  
"At..." Oz spotted a clock on the dresser "...eight-fifteen on a Saturday morning?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Yeah." She crossed the room and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be gone for a couple of hours. Giles wants a big meeting this afternoon, so why don't we get some breakfast when I get back?"  
  
"Technically, it would be brunch," Oz pointed out.  
  
"Okay then, brunch." Willow threw him a tiny wave on her way out the door. "See you later." She paused for a hearbeat, half-in half-out of the room. "See ya."  
  
"Yeah," Oz said as the door closed.  
  
***  
  
"Cordelia?"  
  
Cordelia looked at Casey Porter. "What?"   
  
Casey's lower lip trembled. "I'm starving."  
  
Cordelia shifted, trying to ease the strain on her back and hamstrings. "So what do you want me to do?"  
  
Casey shrugged. The motion dislodged a tear that trickled down her cheek, cutting a path through the dirt and grime. The trail glowed bright white in the violet light.  
  
Cordelia frowned. "That's going to do a lot of good."  
  
"I'm sorry," Casey said, her voice shaky. "I'm really scared. I'm not brave like you."  
  
"What?" Cordelia shot her a sharp look.  
  
"You saved us this morning, and you've been trying to find a way out of here, and all I've been doing is, like, sitting here in the corner." Casey blinked, hard. "But I'm just so scared."  
  
"Look." Cordelia scooted around to face the other girl. "I'm scared too. Really, I am. But you can't give in to it. You have to work the solution, not the problem."  
  
"Huh?" Casey sounded puzzled, which was better than sad and scared.  
  
"It's from Apollo 13." Cordelia nodded toward Janine, who was curled up in the corner, silent and still. "That's what you can't do." She stood, teetered on the edge of falling for a split-second, then recovered her balance and looked around the room, trying to see something in those bare concrete block walls.  
  
"Cordelia?"  
  
"Yeah." She didn't look away from the walls.  
  
"Were you telling the truth? Is someone looking for us?"  
  
Cordelia took a deep breath and looked at the other girl. "Yeah, they are." They are, she repeated to herself. I know they are. I think they are.  
  
"So it's 'stay alive no matter what occurs. I will find you.'" Casey's attempt at a smile was dismal.  
  
"I guess," Cordelia said, turning back to the wall. "At least the 'stay alive' part."  
  
***  
  
"You're late," Giles said as Buffy walked through his front door. The Slayer looked around the living room. Willow sat beside Oz, Lindsay and Faith were at the table and Xander was poking around in the refrigerator.  
  
"Where's Cordelia?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Not here." The fridge gave Xander's voice a weird resonance.  
  
Buffy grunted as she sat down. "Bet you won't bust her for insufficient devotion to the cause."  
  
Giles ignored Buffy's peevishness. "Ms. Maeda and I believe that the sudden confluence of vampires in Sunnydale is no coincidence."  
  
"Huh?" Xander said, pulling his head out of the refrigerator.  
  
"No accident we got two vampire posses in town," Oz said.  
  
"Oh," Xander said.  
  
"We know more about the Reverend, but our lack of knowledge regarding Mr. Trick is disturbing," Giles said.  
  
"Okay then," Buffy said, "what do we know about him?"  
  
Giles looked at Lindsay. She nodded. "We already knew that Trick is very young in vampire terms, yet he's quite well-known and seems to be very feared."  
  
"Yeah," Xander said. "Ripping the guts out of a few hundred folks'll do that for your rep."  
  
"Errrrr, wrong answer." Lindsay pointed at Xander. "His body count is nothing special, at least not the confirmed ones."  
  
"So what's so spooky-ooky about him?" Willow asked.  
  
Giles frowned. "I wish we knew. Unfortunately, our sources are not that good. All we've been able to glean is a general impression that if he is in the area, it must be bad news."  
  
"So we really don't know squat," Xander said, peeling a banana he'd found.  
  
"That is an eloquent man," Oz said.  
  
"It would help if we had more information," Lindsay said, shrugging. "He's pretty damn secretive, which is rare for a vampire. Most of them go to great lengths to make sure that everyone knows what they've done."  
  
"We could go see Willie. You know, break down his door and force him to talk." Willow bounced on the sofa. "That'd be a start."  
  
"Hold on there, Duke," Xander said. "Since when do you break down doors?"  
  
"Well, not me exactly, but..." Willow pointed at Buffy and Faith.  
  
"Hey," Faith said, "I'm up for a little beat down."  
  
"That's a very crude approach," Giles said.  
  
"Yeah," Faith replied. "That's probably why I like it so much."  
  
"Who's Willie?" Lindsay asked.  
  
Giles turned his head toward her. "He runs a local establishment that caters to vampires and the like."  
  
"I tell ya, everything that man says sounds so classy," Xander mumbled around a mouthful of banana.  
  
Oz cleared his throat. "Why do you think Willie will know anything? I mean, these sound like two exceptional guys. Isn't that outside Willie's usual clientele?"  
  
Lindsay looked at Giles. "He has a point."  
  
"It's okay." Everyone looked at Buffy as she stood. "Faith, you take Xander and talk to Willie. I think I might know a guy who can help."  
  
"Buffyyyyyyy." Willow's voice rose to a whining pitch.  
  
Giles stared at his hands as he rubbed them together. "Am I right in assuming you're talking about Angel?"  
  
"He's the only vampire ex-boyfriend I've got."  
  
"That's good," Xander said. "I was wondering if you might have a couple more hidden under the bed."  
  
"What makes you think he will help you?" Giles spoke in haste, as Buffy looked daggers at Xander.  
  
She shrugged. "He won't like it, but I don't think he'll bite my head off." She looked around the room. "Okay, okay, bad joke."  
  
***  
  
"So, vampires and demons hang out in this place?" Faith looked rather skeptical as she examined the drab, faded brick exterior of Willie's bar.  
  
Xander shrugged. "You expected them to gather at the Sunnydale Country Club?"  
  
"Good point." Faith headed toward the door. "Follow my lead, okay?"  
  
"Hey," Xander said, hurrying to catch up, "what's our plan?"  
  
Faith grinned as she looked back at him. "I get really violent and you try to reason with me."  
  
***  
  
Buffy passed through the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, a cup of something in front of her as she read a magazine. She placed the publication on the table as her daughter passed.  
  
"What's wrong?" Joyce asked.  
  
"Wrong? Who said anything's wrong?" Buffy said.  
  
Joyce pursed her lips. "You did. It's a little thing called body language."  
  
"Mom, it's not--"  
  
"Not something I should worry about? Buffy, I know you're the Slayer, but you're also my daughter, and when something's bothering you, it's bothering me. So sit down and humor your poor old mom."  
  
Buffy's feet dragged as she pulled out a chair and sat. "I really don't know how to begin."  
  
"Would 'at the beginning' be too much of a cliché?"  
  
"I'm not sure what the exact beginning is."  
  
Joyce nodded. "Then how about giving me the most important fact?"  
  
Buffy took a deep breath and blew it out. "Okay, but I want you to remember that this was your idea."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Buffy swallowed and looked at the table. "Angel is back."  
  
Joyce picked up her cup and held it in both hands. "Back from where?"  
  
"From hell. Where I sent him."  
  
"All right, there's a good place to begin explaining. Hell?"  
  
"It's not an expression, Mom. It's a real place, all the books call it hell, so I do too."  
  
Joyce placed her cup back on the table and used both hands to straighten her magazine. "So you did have to...." Buffy nodded. "Why don't you tell me about that part? The part where you're responsible."  
  
Buffy's hands rested on the table. As she spoke, she looked at them. "Angel figured out how to awaken the demon Acathla, which would suck the whole world into hell. The only way to stop him was to use the sword he'd pulled out of the demon to... basically, I ran him through and when the portal closed, he was on the wrong side."  
  
Joyce shook her head. "I'll admit there's a lot going on here that I don't understand, but that seems like a pretty permanent situation."  
  
"One would think."  
  
"So, how did he get back?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No idea. Less than no idea."  
  
"Why is he back?"  
  
A bitter, sardonic grin twitched at the Slayer's mouth. "See last answer."  
  
Joyce got up and went to the sink. She rinsed her cup and put it in the drainer. "So... does he still want to destroy the world?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, eyes still downcast. "No."  
  
Joyce knelt beside her daughter and placed a hand on her arm. "And how do you know that?"  
  
Buffy bit her lip. "Just before I... did it, he changed. Willow worked a spell that restored his soul, only it was too late."  
  
"Oh, honey," Joyce said, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Buffy slid sideways and buried her face in her mother's shoulder, weeping.   
  
The tears began to subside after a few minutes. Joyce stroked her only child's hair and thought about the unimaginable burden the girl bore. "Honey," she said, "what does Mr. Giles think about this?"  
  
Buffy pulled away, drying her eyes with the heels of her hands. "He's not sure what's going on. He's not the happiest guy in town."  
  
"Are you on your way to see Angel?" The words tore at Joyce's heart as she uttered them and when Buffy nodded she almost couldn't breathe.  
  
"Yeah. I'm going to see if he knows anything about some new vampires in town."  
  
"Buffy, I..." Joyce stopped. She took a deep breath and began again. "I don't really know what to say. Part of me wants to lock you in your room for the next ten years--"  
  
"Part of me wouldn't mind that," Buffy said.  
  
"-but I know that you have this calling." Joyce leaned over and kissed her daughter on the top of the head. "Please promise your worried mother that you'll be careful."  
  
Buffy stood and hugged her mom. "That's one promise I'm glad to make."  
  
***  
  
"Please, perhaps if I knew what this was about?" Willie maintained an impressive degree of dignity for a man who was about to lose consciousness.  
  
"Tell us what you know about either the Reverend or Mr. Trick, you bag of dirt." Faith tightened her grip on the snitch's throat and raised him another inch off the floor.  
  
"Please," Willie gasped, "I think 'bag of dirt' is a bit much. I'm just a businessman trying to pursue his trade."  
  
Xander said, "Hey, Faith, he's not going to be much good if he's unconscious or dead."  
  
"Dead?" Willie wheezed. "When did 'dead' enter the picture?"  
  
Faith's glare remained constant, but she lowered the wiry little bartender to the ground. Her grip on his throat loosened, but her hand stayed there. "Okay," she said, jerking a thumb in Xander's direction, "his soft heart bought you thirty seconds. Spill."  
  
Willie held up his hands, a gesture halfway between supplication and self-defense. "Believe me, there's no percentage for me in holding out on you. But I don't know anything about those guys."  
  
Faith's fist drew back. Xander stepped between her and the frightened snitch. He leaned in close enough to whisper in Willie's ear. "You know how scary Buffy can be?" he asked. Willie nodded, his eyes wide. "Well, she's just as strong, only without the nagging social conscience."  
  
"Hey," the little man said, "trust me, I would tell you guys anything I knew, but I don't know nothing about these guys. All I can tell you is what I hear."  
  
"That's a start," Xander said.  
  
"Beats shooting craps with your molars," Faith said. She looked around, taking in the bar's strange crossbreeding of '50's diner with '30's speakeasy.  
  
"Okay okay, I get it, I get it." Willie shrugged and straightened his shirt. "Jeez, why does everyone have to be so hostile?"  
  
"Willie," Xander said, jerking his head toward Faith.  
  
"Okay. Like I told you, I don't know nothing about those guys. None of their crews come in here, which is pretty strange if you know anything about vampires. Them being sociable and all."  
  
"But you said you'd heard things..." Xander left the question open-ended.  
  
"Yeah, guys come in here and shoot their mouth off." Willie lowered his voice. "I can tell you this, that Reverend guy scares a lot of these guys."  
  
"Why?" Faith's question was short and sharp, like a fatal gunshot.  
  
"They've heard of him. Plus a couple have crossed his path before. The general consensus seems to be that he's batshit-crazy and you're better off avoiding him."  
  
"What about Mr. Trick?" Xander glanced over his shoulder at Faith, who was rolling one shoulder.  
  
"About him, I got nothing solid. He has his own crew and they're very self-contained. Word is that he's even got a squad who go out and get food for the others. Very division-of-labor."  
  
Faith stretched. "Willie, I'm getting bored."  
  
The little man licked his lips as his eyes darted from side to side. "Okay, but listen, I will not vouch for this. It's pure rumor and I don't want any misunderstanding, okay?" Xander nodded. Willie licked his lips again and continued. "I hear guys talking at the bar--just talking, okay, that's all it is-who seem to think he's some sort of hot-shit freelancer."  
  
"Freelancer?"  
  
"Yeah, an independent contractor of some sort. A hired gun."  
  
"He's an assassin?" Faith leaned into the question.  
  
"Nah, nah. Nothing like that. I mean that he's a guy who'll do a job for a dollar, jobs that usually involve information or salvage of some sort."  
  
"Salvage?" Xander frowned.  
  
Willie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess he recovers things."  
  
Xander looked at Faith, then back at the snitch. "Thanks Willie. By the way, you know what will happen if we find out you're lying."  
  
"Please." Willie had recovered some of his bravado. "There's no reason to question my integrity."  
  
"Glad to hear it." Faith leaned over and patted him on the cheek, just a bit harder than necessary. "Glad to hear it."  
  
***  
  
Buffy glanced up at the setting sun. It was later than she had intended. Of course, Angel was no threat to her, she was sure of that, but still... Shaking her head she pushed through the door and stood in the shadowy entrance.  
  
"Angel?" she called, her voice rising. "Angel, are you here?"  
  
The curtain covering the far doorway twitched and he appeared, clad in black, his hands loose at his sides. Buffy realized that his clothes hung on him in a different fashion. She noticed how the shirt draped from the shoulders and his jeans seemed to hang on the points of his hipbones. His cheekbones were even more pronounced and his jaw line sharper because of the hollowing of his cheeks.  
  
"I didn't expect to see you," he said.  
  
"It's not my happiest hour either," she said.  
  
"You're pretty sure of yourself, coming here with the sun going down."  
  
She hesitated, then spoke. "I meant to be here earlier."  
  
A quick sneer flashed across his face. "Afraid that Angelus might show up?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. I know you're not Angelus any more."  
  
He smiled and it was ugly to see. "That's true. But what if I've become something much worse?" He transformed in an instant, his forehead protruding and corrugating, his eyes turning a malignant yellow.  
  
Buffy took an involuntary step backward, then caught herself and clenched her fists. "We can stand here and try to be edgy and cutting if you want, but I'm here because we need your help."  
  
"We?" Angel snarled, yellow eyes glowing. "The gang down at the malt shop?"  
  
"Yes," Buffy said, "the gang down at the malt shop. Even Giles."  
  
His vamp face vanished like summer lightning. He winced, a fleeting image of pain that lasted a fraction of a heartbeat, but Buffy saw it. He turned, inspecting the massive blocks of stone that formed the wall. "What sort of help are you talking about?"  
  
"They must have been running a sale at Vampires-R-Us, because we have two new bad guys in town."  
  
He looked back over his shoulder, not at her, but at a point on the floor about midway between them. "So if you know that, why do you need me?"  
  
"We don't know anything about them. I thought you might share."  
  
He turned and slid his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. "Share? What makes you think I have anything to share?" She said nothing; she just stared at him. He took his hands out of his pockets. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"Whatever you got would make me just giddy."  
  
He looked at her from under his eyebrows, that familiar look that still made her heart catch in her chest. "The Reverend is crazy, but he's easy to understand. He's straight ahead, burn it down to the ground destruction."  
  
"Like... Spike." Buffy caught herself before she said "Like you."  
  
Angel shook his head. "He lacks Spike's sense of humor. He's mean, he's scary, but he has no imagination. He's strictly 'see it, kill it'."  
  
"You're sure about that?"  
  
Angel's voice came from someplace deep within his psyche. "We've shared the same road once or twice."  
  
"Okay." Buffy nodded and changed the subject. "What about Mr. Trick?"  
  
Angel looked away to his right, then back at her. "I've heard of him."  
  
Buffy waited. He said nothing. Finally, unable to contain her impatience any longer, she said, "Well, what did you hear?"  
  
Angel's deep-set eyes were pools of blackness in the gathering gloom. "I know that he's the one you should be afraid of."  
  
Buffy clenched her fists. "Why?" she asked, the irritation plain in her voice.  
  
"Because of who fears him." The tiniest shiver entered his voice before he finished. He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. His hands trembled slightly just before he clamped them to his elbows. His eyes darted to the left, then returned to her.  
  
Buffy stared at him until realization dawned on her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, licked her lips and tried again. "Can you tell me--"  
  
"No, I can't really tell you anything else." Angel's words exploded out of him in a hot rush. "I couldn't give it my full attention." He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared. "I was otherwise occupied."  
  
The last of the daylight bled away and dusk slipped into full dark. The Slayer asked one more question. "Do you know why they're afraid of him?"  
  
Angel shrugged, a motion that Buffy saw as the simple shifting of a shadow. "They don't understand him and they hate and fear what they don't comprehend." His dark bulk pushed away from the wall. "Sorry to be so short, but I've got to go out. I think you can show yourself the door."  
  
"Angel," she said as he turned away, "thank you." He hesitated in the doorway and she sensed rather than saw him turn his head. "I know this is hard for you," she continued. "I appreciate it." He stood there, a dark specter against the utter blackness of the doorway, and then he vanished into the house without a word.  
  
Buffy turned and left the mansion. She paused in the drive and looked up the slope, toward the bushes where Xander had hidden months ago. "You can come out now, Willow," she said. "I'm safe."  
  
The foliage rustled and a crestfallen Willow slid down the incline. "I thought I could hide better than that."  
  
The Slayer put an arm around her friend's shoulder. "You hid pretty well."  
  
"Then how did you know I was there?"  
  
Buffy smiled and hugged her friend. "Because that would be the Willow way."  
  
***  
  
The phone rang as Buffy entered the back door. She picked it up. "Hello."  
  
"Buffy, could you come to the library right away?"  
  
She shifted the phone to her other hand. "Giles, I'm really not in the mood. I didn't find out anything that can't wait until tomorrow."  
  
"This is completely different. I think we have something more pressing to worry about."  
  
***  
  
"Have you called the cops?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Yes," Giles said. "They should be here any minute."  
  
They stood in front of Cordelia's car. Buffy stared at the red vehicle, arms folded across her chest. She looked to her left. A gym bag lay on the asphalt; Cordelia's name was embroidered into the nylon. A set of car keys lay a few feet away. Buffy looked at her Watcher.  
  
"Any ideas?" she asked.  
  
Giles shook his head. "None whatsoever."  
  
"We really don't need this."  
  
"No," he sighed. "We do not."  
  
***  
SUNDAY  
***  
Willow tossed the legal pad onto the table. It landed with a smack and slid a few inches across the polished wood. "We know that Cordelia got off the pep bus Friday night, so we have a rough time frame."  
  
Xander stared at the legal pad as though it might turn into a serpent. "So while we were having our meeting she was...?"  
  
"Yes," Giles said. "I'm afraid so."  
  
"Do we have anything else?" Oz asked.  
  
Willow grimaced. "Not really. Although whoever snatched her must not have been Mensa material."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Buffy asked, never taking her eyes off Xander.  
  
Willow shrugged. "Leaving her car and gym bag here practically screams 'kidnapping'. Her keys were right there. How hard is it to think to hide the car?"  
  
Oz said, "You have a previously unknown knack for this sort of thing."  
  
"You know," Lindsay Maeda said, "it's conceivable that it's a simple kidnapping. Her family is pretty wealthy."  
  
"I suppose that's possible," Giles conceded. "But the police will be investigating from that angle, and they are far better equipped to deal with such a situation." He looked around the table. "Do any of you really think it's a simple kidnapping and ransom?" There was no reply. "I thought not. That is why we will be concentrating on supernatural explanations."  
  
"So where do we start?" Buffy asked.  
  
Giles ran a hand over his hair, which was already standing straight up and did not benefit from this added attention. "I suppose that we should try to determine the purpose of the abduction."  
  
"Excuse me?" the Slayer said.  
  
"Why was she taken? Would the kidnappers have taken just anyone or were they specifically after Cordelia? Do they want to do her harm or is there some other reason for abducting her?" Giles tapped a pencil on the table. "It could make all the difference in the world."  
  
Lindsay cocked her head to one side. "What about school connections? Social?"  
  
Willow began flapping her hands like a bird trying to achieve lift off. Giles stared at her. "What?"  
  
"Harmony." Willow looked at them. "Think about. This Friday's Homecoming. Maybe Harmony figures 'out of sight, out of mind' until the election."  
  
Giles pursed his lips. "I hope it's something that juvenile."  
  
Xander's jaw clenched. "I'll kill her."  
  
Buffy grabbed his upper arm. "I know you're upset, but that would the hands down stupidest idea of the year."  
  
Lindsay sighed. "Still, it's a legitimate connection."  
  
Willow squared her shoulders. "I will be Harmony's shadow. If she's got Cordelia, I'll find out."  
  
"We might check for cosmetologists or designers who've made deals with the underworld," Oz said. Willow nudged him with an elbow.  
  
"What about the cheerleading squad?" Lindsay said.  
  
"That's an excellent idea," Giles said. "I'll talk to the sponsor myself."   
  
***  
  
Cordelia had never been this hungry, not even that time in the eighth grade when she was afraid of getting fat. She curled in a corner of the room, forehead resting on her knees, and tried to remember the last thing she'd eaten. A Nestle Krunch, that was it, on the bus to the game. If she concentrated, she could almost recall the taste of that tidbit of chocolate and rice. She could feel the smooth texture of the chocolate and the crunchy bits on her tongue. She shook her head to banish the image. There was no use in obsessing over something that was gone.  
  
Of course, hunger was only a part of their situation. They also had nothing to drink, and her throat was parched and sore. She had passed dirty and was racing toward real filth. Her cheerleading sweater was probably ruined and she had never been more aware of how short this skirt really was. Her legs were covered in grime and there was no denying that the three of them stank. No, they reeked, reeked of unwashed bodies, greasy hair and... well, she didn't even want to think about that bucket.  
  
Janine lay on her side in the opposite corner of the room, curled into a fetal ball. Of course, that had been her position almost since the moment that Cordelia awakened, so it was hard to gauge her condition. Casey sat a few feet to Cordelia's right, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. One of her feet twitched. Probably a cramp. The short chains kept them from really exercising their legs. Cordelia had experienced several painful spasms in her hips.  
  
"Cordelia?" Casey whispered.  
  
"Don't whisper," Cordelia said. "We're not in a library." I wish I were in the library, she thought.  
  
"My legs hurt."  
  
"I know," Cordelia said. "I've had a couple of major butt-cramps myself."  
  
Casey leaned forward and began massaging her thighs in a half-hearted way. "What's going to happen?"  
  
"I don't know." Cordelia couldn't keep the anger from her voice. "What am I, the mastermind of this group?"  
  
"Good job." Janine's voice managed to be both teary and accusatory. "You kept us from getting our throats cut yesterday so we can starve to death."  
  
"They brought us food before," Casey said.  
  
"That was before we screwed up their timetable." Janine's every word was edged with a thin crust of hysteria.  
  
"We're not going to starve." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Okay, we're really hungry, but it takes like eight days to starve." She tried to swallow. "I'd worry more about water."  
  
"Yeah," Casey said in a husky voice. "I read that it only takes like three days to die of thirst."  
  
"Well, thank you, Miss Sunshine." Janine tucked her head back down.  
  
"We're not going to die of thirst," Cordelia said, her words tearing at her throat. "These guys kidnapped us to sacrifice us."  
  
"What if they just left us? Forgot about us?" Casey's eyes widened and her chin trembled.  
  
Cordelia shook her head, which seemed to require every ounce of strength she had left. "Then we'll be okay. Someone will find us." Yes, she thought, they will find us. They are looking for me, maybe not with a song in their heart and a smile on their lips, but they are looking for me. Aren't they? When the Anointed One tried to raise the Master, Buffy came for me then, didn't she? Of course, Willow and Giles were there too, but still...  
  
***  
  
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked. Xander turned and looked at her. She winced. "You're right, absolutely stupid question. But you're being awfully quiet."  
  
Xander shrugged. They were sitting on the west bleachers of the football field. The mid-afternoon light slanted across them, casting giant, elongated shadows across the track and the grass. Buffy noticed that the middle of the field was wearing through to bare dirt.  
  
"It's my fault," he said, staring across the gridiron. He hunched over, his chin resting on his folded forearms.  
  
"That's stupider than my question," she said. "How could this be your fault?"  
  
"Cordelia asked me to go to the game." His voice was just above a whisper. "She asked me to ride the pep bus and I said no."  
  
"Xander, that's--"  
  
"If I had gone, I would have gotten off the bus with her. Both of us would have been going to the car. They wouldn't have attacked her."  
  
"Maybe." Buffy rested her chin on her fist. "Or they might have killed you and taken her anyway. Ever think about that?"  
  
He was quiet for a second, then said, "No."  
  
They sat there in silence for a while longer, then Buffy said, "We'll find her. Everything will be all right."  
  
Xander took a deep breath. "What makes you so sure?"  
  
Buffy smiled at him as she got to her feet. "Because it's what I do. And I promised."  
  
***  
MONDAY  
***  
  
Willow shot a quick look around the corner and pulled back. Harmony and her lackeys were clustered around a locker. Maybe they were laughing over their criminal brilliance, but that didn't seem likely. Willow scowled. So far Harmony had been her regular self, which may have been a moral failing but certainly wasn't a criminal offense.  
  
"How goes the stakeout?" Oz leaned against the wall beside her.  
  
"I don't know. So far she hasn't done anything suspicious."  
  
Oz nodded. "Just wanted to let you know that I have some stuff to do this afternoon. I'll see you tonight?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Okay. I have some stuff to take care of myself. Do you want to meet back here at the library?"  
  
"Sure. Six-thirty?"  
  
"Sounds good." Willow glanced around the corner then turned back to Oz. "Gotta go. She's on the move."  
  
***  
  
The lock turned with a sound like certain doom. The door swung open and the dirty yellow-white light poured through again. Cordelia shaded her watering eyes. A dark figure, details indistinguishable against the light, stepped into the room. As the door closed and the room faded into its habitual murk she was able to make out detail. It was Old Man, only this time he wore a dark sweatshirt and jeans. The fingers of his right hand were hooked through the handles of three bottles of water, gallons to judge by their size. A flat cardboard box balanced on his left hand. He squatted, placing the water on the floor, then stood, holding the box in both hands.  
  
"It's cold," he said, raising the box a little before putting it down by the water. He stepped back, his hand reaching for the door.  
  
"Hey," Cordelia said, holding up her hands, "could you untie us?"  
  
He stood there, thinking. "I wasn't told to cut your hands loose."  
  
"Were you told not to?" Cordelia gestured at the other girls. "Look at us. Do you think we're going to overpower you? We just want to be able to eat."  
  
"And maybe groom each other," Casey whispered.  
  
Old Man hesitated. Cordelia pasted the most pitiful expression she could muster onto her face. He shook his head, then reached into his pocket. He rummaged for a few minutes before he found a pair of nail clippers. He crouched beside Cordelia.  
  
"If you try anything, I'll have to tell him," he said.  
  
Cordelia held out her hands. "Just cut this." As he reached for her hands, she noticed that his wrists were thin and delicate, almost like a girl's. The clippers were a little small, so he had to sort of gnaw through the plastic, but in a few seconds her hands were loose. She rubbed her wrists as he freed the hands of the other two prisoners.  
  
He was reaching for the door again when Cordelia spoke. "Thank you."  
  
He paused, unsure of his reaction, then said, "You're, uh, you're welcome."  
  
She licked her lips. "Could you please... could you please empty that bucket? It's really disgusting."  
  
"What?" he said, his back still to them. "Do I look like the maid?"  
  
"Please," Cordelia said. He clenched his fists, then turned and stalked toward the other room. He emerged in a few seconds, struggling with the plastic five-gallon bucket. Both hands were wrapped around the handle. The door clicked behind him, followed by the turning of the lock. All three girls grabbed for the box and a bottle of water.  
  
Cordelia wrenched the cap off and took a long, chugging drink. Water spilled down her chin. She swallowed, gasping, then looked at the box. It was a pizza, a cold cheese pizza with congealed grease sitting atop it like gelatinous icebergs. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Two pieces were already missing; Janine and Casey looked at her, smears of grease and tomato on their chins.  
  
The door opened again and Old Man came in carrying the now-empty bucket. He barely glanced at them as he tossed it into the other room. He left without saying a word, which was just as well since the girls were far too busy choking down pizza to acknowledge him.  
  
***  
  
Giles looked up when he heard the library doors open. He was headed out of his office when the voice called out "Mr. Giles!" The owner of the voice was a graceful black woman who stood just inside the library doors. In addition to being taller than Giles, she also wore a black sweatshirt over fire-engine-red spandex leggings and snow-white basketball shoes.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked.  
  
"I hope so," she said, extending a hand. "Matti Hollis." When he only looked confused, she added, "Girl's health and physical education. Also the cheerleading sponsor."  
  
"Oh. Oh, yes," he said, covering his surprise and grasping her hand. "How may I be of assistance?"  
  
Ms. Hollis put her hands on her hips. "Wondered if you might know where Cordelia Chase is."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Ms. Hollis tapped one foot. "Cordelia wasn't at practice today. She doesn't miss practice. I can't get any answer at her home phone. I've seen her with that little group that hangs around here. I thought you might know if she was sick or something."  
  
Giles shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't. She could have the flu."  
  
Hollis nodded, thinking about this. "I suppose. If you hear anything, you'll let me know." It wasn't a question. She turned to go.  
  
"Ms. Hollis." Giles took off his glasses and held them up, peering through the lenses at the light. "You seem very concerned about a student missing one day."  
  
Matti Hollis shrugged. "Maybe, but Cordelia's very conscientious."  
  
Giles blinked and lowered his glasses. "She is?"  
  
"Oh yeah. She's the hardest worker I've got on the squad. She never takes a day off, never dogs it in drills, always wants to get better. She's a pleasure to work with."  
  
"Oh." Giles replaced his glasses scratched his head. "Well, if I find out anything, I'll be in touch."  
  
"Thanks Mr. Giles. See you at the game."  
  
***  
  
The bell over the door of the Magic Shoppe tinkled as Lindsay pushed open the door. The proprietor hurried out of the back room, wiping his hands on a towel.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked.  
  
"I hope so," Lindsay said. "How's business been lately?"  
  
He shrugged and smiled. It was a pleasant, inoffensive sort of smile that extended all the way to his receding hairline. "Actually, it's been pretty good. Tarot cards are doing very well right now."  
  
"Uh-huh," Lindsay said. "Have you sold anything more... unusual?"  
  
His smile vanished. "I run a legal shop," he said, raising his towel in front of him like a shield.  
  
"I'm not with the police," Lindsay said. "I'm from the school..." Oh well, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound "...and there's a rumor going around that some students have been making threats. It's probably nothing, just kids blowing off steam, but you know how it is these days. We have to check out every little thing whether it's serious or not."  
  
He nodded. "I know. Everyone is looking for somebody to blame."  
  
She nodded her best 'I-hear-you' nod. "Honestly, this is pretty much CYA, but if you can think of anything you've sold that seems... out of the ordinary or a customer who caught your attention, I'd appreciate knowing about it."  
  
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, mostly it's tarot cards and orbs; those are mainly for tourists. A lot of the high school kids come in, but they want mostly herbs and candles." He leaned forward. "You know, a little of the ol' black magic can really liven up a Friday night." She nodded, smiling. He smiled back. "That's really-- No, wait. I had one customer this morning, a kid who came in and wanted to buy a knife."  
  
Lindsay frowned. "What's strange about that?"  
  
He shrugged. "Well, to be honest, my selection of knives is pretty bad. You can get great looking knives by mail order now, and all the big discount stores have them in sporting goods. The ones I've got are mostly ceremonial and ornamental." He tugged at his earlobe. "He said he wanted it for his mom, but if his mom likes the one he picked, well, she's one scary lady."  
  
"Why?" Lindsay asked, dreading the answer.  
  
"It's a formal blade of sacrifice." He made a face. "He seemed to like that a lot."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia took a small sip of water, then made sure the cap was on securely. She looked at her fellow captives. Janine was in her customary position, curled into a ball in the corner. Janine was a lost cause. Cordelia turned to Casey.  
  
"Hey," she said, "what are those things on your arm?"  
  
"These?" Casey held up her right arm. "They're friendship bracelets. I make 'em out of string and give them to people."  
  
"You've got a lot of them."  
  
Casey shrugged. "I guess. I know a lot of people. I think I have good people skills, which is a plus because my grades aren't that great. Mostly C's. I get a B here and there. Got a D in French last year." Cordelia nodded and made appropriate noises of interest. Anything to keep the girl talking.  
  
Casey looked at her. "So, nobody's looking for us, are they?"  
  
Cordelia scowled. "Yes they are. The police are looking for you. You've been missing long enough for them to get involved."  
  
"So who's looking for you?"  
  
"Someone is looking for me."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
Uncertainty stabbed at Cordelia's heart like a shard of glass as she said, "Because they promised."  
  
***  
  
"He described him as a guy in high school or maybe just graduated, nothing unusual or scary about. He said that if he passed him on the street he probably wouldn't recognize him. He remembered more about the knife." Lindsay shook her head.  
  
"Maybe we could get the tape from the store's security camera," Willow said.  
  
"No," Lindsay replied. "There are no security cameras at the Magic Shoppe."  
  
Willow scowled. "Another perfectly good idea shot to hell."  
  
Buffy drummed her fingers on the library counter. "So it's a dead end."  
  
Lindsay said, "I thought about showing him an SHS yearbook, but I don't know if it would work."  
  
"Keep it in mind," Giles said. "It might be a last resort."  
  
Buffy looked at Xander. He sat at the round table, hands folded and head down. She turned back to Giles. "But right now we have nothing." The doors clicked as they were pushed open.  
  
"I may have something," Oz said. They all turned toward him. He held up a book bound in black leather. "I was at the city library and I found this book."  
  
"In a library? Impressive." Faith whistled.  
  
Oz ignored her as he dropped the book to the table and flipped it open. "There's a page missing here."  
  
Willow's nose wrinkled. "Not to be negative girl, but it's an old book. It's probably missing a lot of pages."  
  
Oz stepped away from the table. "Yeah, but check it out." Willow and Xander crowded in.   
  
"That is an awfully straight edge," Willow said. "Somebody cut this out."  
  
"Yeah, and if you look close, it's very fresh." Oz pointed.  
  
Giles looked at the volume, then snapped his fingers. "I think I have another edition of this book."  
  
"What a surprise," Faith said as he hurried into his office. He returned seconds later with another tome, much older, the red cover faded and flocked with mildew.  
  
"What page are you looking at?" he asked as he laid his book down on the table and opened it.  
  
"Darned if I know," Xander said.  
  
"Let me see it." Giles glanced at the black book, then began turning pages in his.  
  
"What kind of book is this?" Buffy asked.  
  
Giles did not look up from his work. "An encyclopedia of sorts. Contains a small amount of information about a great many demons, monsters, and other supernatural phenomena. Ah, here we go." He held one page between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
"Do they sell these door to door?" Willow asked.  
  
"Will." The tone of Xander's voice caused them all to turn and stare. "It's not the time for jokes."  
  
"Sorry," Willow mumbled.  
  
"Well, this is a bit of good luck." Giles leaned forward over the page, oblivious to the tension. "It seems that there is only one entry fully contained on this page."  
  
"Well," Buffy said. "Who is it?"  
  
"Oh," Giles said, blinking as though he'd just noticed he was not alone. "Azrael. The angel of death."  
  
"Oh," Buffy said. "Is that all?"  
  
"I believe I have something on him in the office," Giles said. The others stared at him as he went into the smaller room. When he came back he carried another book, this one much smaller than the first. He began to scan the text. "Yes, here we are," he said. "I believe this might be why that page would be of interest. Ms. Maeda, would you please read the encyclopedia entry regarding Azrael and tell me if it says anything about his relationship to humans."  
  
Lindsay grabbed the red book and began to read. "Here it is," she said, stabbing a finger at the page. "Mentions that there have been cults of Azrael-followers for thousands of years and that there is a ritual for calling him."  
  
"Yes," Giles said. "And I gather that I have that ritual here right in front of me." The scrape of chairs and the squeak of sneakers filled the room as they all crowded around him.  
  
Giles studied the document for a moment, then blinked. "Oh, well," he said.  
  
"What?" Buffy demanded. "What is it?"  
  
"It, uh, it seems that the ritual requires a human sacrifice." He returned to the text. "Three, to be exact. Three, um..."  
  
"Three what, Giles?" Willow asked.  
  
"Three, uh..." Giles cleared his throat. "Three virgins."  
  
"Oh." Buffy turned away. A general sound of throat-clearing permeated the air.  
  
"So we got the wrong tree," Faith said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Willow said.  
  
Faith shrugged. "Hey, it says they have to be virgins. Don't tell me Cordelia's never ridden the baloney pony. I'm not buying it."  
  
Xander pushed away from the table, turned and rushed from the room. Buffy shot a sharp glance at Faith, who responded with a 'who,me?' look. The Slayer sprinted across the library, following her friend.  
  
She pushed through the doors and stopped. The slap of Xander's Vans on the tile echoed to her right. She was two-thirds of the way down the hall when she heard the crash of the outside door opening. She caught him at the bottom of the steps and grabbed him by the shoulder.  
  
"Hey," she said as he spun around. "What's with you?"  
  
To her surprise, Xander looked angry. His face was flushed a deep red and his breath whistled through his nose. He looked down at her, his eyes snapping. "Sorry. I had to get out."  
  
"Xander," she said, "what's wrong?"  
  
He ran a hand through his hair. "It could be," he said.  
  
"What could be? Compete sentences and an idea would help me a lot."  
  
Xander's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. "It could... Cordelia could... We haven't actually done it, okay?"  
  
Buffy blinked. "You and Cordelia haven't had sex? Were you going to share that? It is kind of important, you know."  
  
Xander looked around. "We haven't had sex. I don't know what she's done with any of her other boyfriends."  
  
Buffy punched him in the chest. He staggered back two steps and went down hard, performing a complete back somersault and coming to rest on his butt. "Hey, was there a reason for that?" he said.  
  
"You jerk," she said. "Your wounded male vanity is not the issue here."  
  
"What do you mean?" he said, struggling to his feet.  
  
"I don't give a damn if you're embarrassed that somebody else may have slept with her and you haven't. She's the one in trouble. She's the one who's scared." Buffy turned, beckoning to him with a hand. "Come on. Let's go tell them."  
  
***  
  
"As you can see," Hockey Mask said, "we have obtained the correct knife." He held up a battered leather sheath. A plain hilt wrapped in black leather was visible. "It's not as pretty, but according to the guy at the store, it's exactly what we need." He looked at Cordelia. "Thanks for being so helpful." He held out the scabbard for Scream, who took it and slid free the dagger.   
  
It was an ugly knife, the blade pitted and dark. The grip showed no ornamentation. That made it worse; this was an instrument for killing, not some showy plaything. Something caught a glimmer of light and Cordelia saw it was writing of some sort.  
  
"Who first?" Scream asked. Cordelia's blood ran cold when Hockey Mask looked at her.  
  
"Not the Queen," he said. "Make her watch the others." He pointed at Janine. "Her first."  
  
Scream grabbed Janine by the hair and dragged her across the room. Freddie and Old Man guarded Cordelia and Casey. Janine was so far gone she didn't even scream. The only sound she made was a small, distant whimper. Hockey Mask opened the small black book. Cordelia's mind raced as he began to read.  
  
"Lord Azrael, we are gathered as your servants. We bring you the boon you demand, the price you command. We bring three, three untouched, three pure, three unknown by man. Let their blood--"  
  
"Wait!" Cordelia's eyes were wide, like someone in the grip of a fevered hallucination. "Have you checked the moon?"  
  
"What?" Hockey Mask sounded annoyed.  
  
"The phases of the moon are always important in this stuff," she said, putting all the conviction she could muster into her voice. "It's always by the dark of the moon or the full moon, or something like that, and we're not at either one."  
  
"This is bullshit." Scream knelt beside Janine, his left hand holding her head to the floor, one of his knees pinning her shoulders. "She's stalling." He hefted the knife.  
  
"She was right about the knife." Old Man's voice was soft and hesitant.  
  
"What?" Hockey Mask demanded.  
  
"I said--" Old Man's voice caught and he began again. "I said, she was right about the knife. Maybe she's right about this."  
  
"Who cares?" Scream's frustration was growing. "Why would she be telling us this anyway?"  
  
"I told you, if these things backfire then it's worse than death." Cordelia looked at each of them. "If this goes bad, do you want to be some angry demon's man-bitch for eternity?"  
  
Hockey Mask looked at her, unmoving. He turned to Old Man. "Let's check the document."  
  
"Aw, come on," Scream protested.  
  
"I said, we'll check the document." Hockey Mask looked at his minion. "We do this right. Say she is stalling--"  
  
"Which I'm not," Cordelia said.  
  
"-it takes us an extra twenty minutes or so." He looked at Cordelia and cocked his head, then turned back to Scream. "Tell you what, if she's lying, you can cut her up a little before you kill her. Maybe carve on her face a little. That sound fair?"  
  
"On her?" The pleasure the thought gave him was evident even through the muffling effect of the mask. "Oh yeah, that's fair." Cornelia shrank back, trying not to look at the knife. She heard a faint gasp and looked at Casey. Tears ran down the other girl's face and she shivered like someone in the grip of malaria. Hockey Mask pointed at Old Man, who left the room.  
  
"See, that's what makes this fun," Hockey Mask said to Cordelia. "When the spell picked you, we couldn't believe it. How cool was that, that we get to kill the empress bitch of all time, Cordelia Chase?"  
  
Old Man came back, carrying a piece of paper that he handed to Hockey Mask. He began reading. He tapped it with a forefinger.  
  
"Fuck, she's right," he said. "The dark of the new moon. When is that?"  
  
"Thursday." Old Man shrugged. "I went ahead and looked it up."  
  
"Well then," Hockey Mask said, "I guess we wait a couple more days." He looked at the girls and a nasty chuckle grated underneath the mask. "Seems you guys get to enjoy pissing in a bucket for a while longer."  
  
"Hey, could I just go ahead and kill this one?" Scream still had Janine pinned to the ground.  
  
"No," Hockey Mask said. "We're not doing this for laughs. We need three for the ritual."  
  
"We'll find another one."  
  
"I said no." Hockey Mask's voice thickened with anger. "It took a lot of planning to get these three. They're the ones. Now let her go."  
  
"Fuck you." But Scream got up and jammed the knife back into its sheath. Janine didn't move; she remained stretched out on the floor. The masked quartet left the room, Scream still bitching about not getting to cut anyone.  
  
"Cordelia," Casey said, "are they going to find us soon?"  
  
"Yeah, they are." Cordelia pushed herself upright and stood there for a moment, trying to control her dizziness. "But just in case they're late," she said, "we need to come up with some kind of plan on our own."  
  
Janine laughed and the laughter grew until it acquired a hysterical edge. Cordelia and Casey watched her until the fit passed and she quieted.  
  
"You stupid imbecile," Janine said. "Why don't you just accept it? We're going to die."  
  
"No." Even in her weakened state, Cordelia's anger flared. "I don't quit."  
  
Casey looked up at her. "Cordelia, I hate to agree with her, but--"  
  
"If they cut my throat, fine, then they cut my throat. But I will not put my head on the block for them." Cordelia's breathing was harsh and rapid.  
  
Casey bit her lip as she glanced down. Looking back up at Cordelia she said, "So what's the plan?"  
  
"I don't know yet," Cordelia said. "I'm a little stronger on theory than practice."  
  
***  
  
End of "Mystery Date" part 2  



	3. The End

Suggested listening:  
  
"Fall On Me" by REM  
"Mezzanine Floor" by Delirious?  
"Under The Milky Way" by The Church  
  
Part 3 of "Mystery Date."  
  
***  
  
"So it could be this cult that has Cordelia? Assuming that such a cult exists and that they are acting on this ritual?" A vertical frown line appeared between Lindsay's immaculate eyebrows.  
  
Xander closed his eyes. "Based on my personal experience, yes, it's possible that Cordelia is... that she meets the requirements."  
  
Faith sat slouched in one of the wooden chairs, her feet propped on the library table. "Hey, with speech skills like that you should be in politics." Buffy tried throwing a 'shut up' look in Faith's direction, but it had all the effect of spit on granite as the dark-haired Slayer continued to speak. "So we're really supposed to believe that Cordelia hasn't gone on Mr. Toad's wild ride? That's a little rich for my credibility budget." Xander's expression was one of physical pain.   
  
Giles rubbed his chin with his thumb. "I suppose," he said at last, "that there are many things one could do and still be considered, at least technically, a virgin." Now Xander's expression was one of physical illness.  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, "could we concentrate on the important matter at hand? Okay, I'm as skeptical as anyone, but we have to find Cordelia. After we do that, we can take a personal history."  
  
"Yeah," Xander said, grateful for the change of subject. "And we have to guard Willow."  
  
"What?" Willow said, her voice shooting upward.  
  
"I'm just saying that if this cult has Cordelia and it turns out she isn't... acceptable, then they'll be looking for someone else and you're a likely candidate," Xander said.  
  
Willow stared at him, her mouth open. Sputtering noises were heard. "Wh-what... wh-who..."  
  
"As embarrassing as it may be, Xander might have a point," Giles said. "Perhaps Willow could be... that is, um..." he lapsed into silence.  
  
"Bait? Is that the word you're looking for? Bait?" Willow's dander was still up. Oz touched her on the shoulder but she shook him off. "I'm so sorry, but as much as I'd like to be your Judas goat, I'm not eligible anymore."  
  
Giles shook his head. "I would never ask you to--"  
  
"You had sex?" Buffy said. "You guys did it."  
  
"What?" Xander said, his eyebrows heading skyward. He turned to Willow. "You...?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, we had sex," Willow said, her posture defiant. "It was a beautiful, private thing that was going to be all the more beautiful for remaining private until you stomped all over it." Her hand moved so fast that the sound of the slap was fading before most of them realized what she'd done.  
  
"Ouch," Xander said, rubbing his jaw. Oz put his arms around Willow from behind, folding her into his embrace and whispering in her ear.  
  
"Hey." Faith spoke into the vacuum. "Any reason we're only worried about female virgins?"  
  
Giles ran both hands along his jaw. "It's a matter of custom and tradition, but... no, the ritual does not specify females. Why?"  
  
Faith looked at Xander, her lips curved in a wicked grin. "Maybe we should be protecting you."  
  
Xander turned to Buffy. "Please kill me now. This is officially the most humiliating moment of my life."  
  
***  
  
The hinges squeaked as the door opened. Cordelia looked up. They were here! She was... Her heart sank as she saw Hockey Mask enter. No rush of light accompanied him, so she assumed it was night. He squatted beside her. Cordelia drew away from him, pressing her back against the rough wall. He watched her for a moment. His hand touched her leg just above the knee.  
  
"Don't," she said. She tried to make it commanding, but her voice quivered.  
  
"Or you'll what?" His eyes were in shadow, two glittering points all she could make out. She gathered what strength she had and swung her fist at him. He caught it with ease. "Nice try." He squeezed, and pain lanced through her arm. He removed his right hand from her leg and reached behind his back.  
  
"See," he said, producing the intricate knife, "I kept it."  
  
Cordelia swallowed hard. "I thought killing me would screw up the sacrifice."  
  
He shrugged. "Who said 'kill'? Maybe I'll just cut off a finger. Or saw off your hand. With a tourniquet, you could live long enough." He released her hand. Cordelia cradled it, trying to rub out the pain.  
  
He switched the knife to his left hand and placed his right on her leg again. "This is what's so sweet." His hand crept higher on her leg, caressing her upper thigh. "Seeing you like this after watching you walk those halls, watching you think you're better than everybody else. Well, who's in charge now?" His hand slipped up under her skirt and touched the hem of her cheer briefs. Cordelia tried not to recoil as his fingertips caressed the material. "I've always wondered, do you wear panties under these or do you just go au naturel?" He slipped a finger inside the elastic. "Hey, looks like you're double-covered."   
  
His hand withdrew and began to spider-walk across her abdomen, his fingers creeping over the fabric. Cordelia tensed. He paused, then a finger dipped between her legs and pressed. A sour taste flooded the back of her throat. She tried to squeeze her thighs together, which made him laugh. "Don't worry baby. I'm not going to rape you. That would spoil things. I'm just having some fun." He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, the knife in his left hand.  
  
"Isn't it ironic?" he whispered as his finger rubbed up and down. "You've saved it and now it's going to get you killed. Who's high and mighty now?" A brutal excuse for a chuckle emanated from the white mask. "Who the fuck has license plates like that anyway, 'Queen C?' You're not the queen now, are you?" The gleam in the shadowy sockets of the mask grew feverish. His hand moved from between her legs. Cordelia heard the grating sound of his zipper opening, then the rough rasping noises of flesh on flesh. She turned her head. She could see Casey Porter lying on the floor. The whites of the other girl's eyes were visible. She was watching. Cordelia closed her eyes.  
  
He grabbed her chin and jerked her head around. "Open your eyes, bitch."  
  
"No," she said, eyes shut tight. "Kill me. Cut my face. Do what you want. But I'm not watching this." She trembled, waiting for the blade to strike, but instead she heard the sounds resume. His breathing was rapid and shallow, almost gasping. She flinched as something warm and slippery squirted across her thighs. He groaned and she heard the zipper sounds again, then the sound of him getting to his feet and stumbling across the room. The hinges on the door squeaked and it slammed. That's when the shame and humiliation and anger surged up, threatening to choke her. Her throat burned and her eyes were closed as she sprawled there against the wall. The viscous fluid oozed over her legs, its passage marked by an obscene tickle. Scalding tears worked their way past her lashes and spilled down her cheeks. She felt something wet and cold brush her leg. With a strangled cry, she lashed out, opening her eyes.  
  
The punch caught Casey in the back of the head, knocking her forward across Cordelia's legs. The girl looked back at the cheerleader, her eyes wide. Cordelia struggled to find something to say. Casey pushed herself to her knees. Her hands held her soaked T-shirt.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said in a shaky voice. "I'm so sorry. I saw what he was doing, but I was so scared. I should have jumped on him or something, but instead I just lay there and let him... let him." She began to cry. "I'm so sorry. I thought I could at least wash it off for you."  
  
"He had a knife." Cordelia shook her head. "It's not your fault. You couldn't do anything. He did it. He's to blame." She wiped her eyes on one of her sweater's filthy sleeves and looked at the other girl's hands. "You shouldn't waste your drinking water."  
  
Casey looked down at the nasty floor. "Cordelia, what did he mean when he said 'You've saved it and now it's going to kill you?'"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
Casey looked at her. "When they started the ritual, he said something about three untouched, three unknown by man."  
  
"Yeah, I guess." Cordelia felt mostly fragile and alone. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to hide their trembling.  
  
Casey chewed her lip for a moment. "Is there anything...?"  
  
"No." Cordelia shook her head, tired beyond anything she ever imagined. "Try to sleep."  
  
Casey opened her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she crawled away and lay down, her back to Cordelia.  
  
Cordelia Chase put her head in her hands and cried, cried for what had happened and for what was about to happen and for the sure, certain knowledge that no one was coming.  
  
***  
TUESDAY  
***  
  
"Thanks for the ride," Willow said as she climbed into the van. "I didn't feel like walking today."  
  
"Hey, no problem," Oz said. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Willow looked at him and scrunched up her face. "I'm okay. Not crazy about having... certain things become semi-public knowledge, but it happened. Xander wasn't trying to hurt us, he was just an idiot."  
  
Oz nodded. "Agreed." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey, new shampoo?"  
  
"Yeah." Willow held up a section of hair. "I'm trying to tame that flyaway thing."  
  
***  
  
Xander glanced at the clock again. The timepiece mocked him; it claimed that only two minutes had passed since his last glimpse. What period was this? What subject? He didn't know and didn't care. His stomach was a mess; he constantly felt like he was going to either puke or crap in his pants. Walking was a chore since his knees wanted to fold up every time he directed them to move. The clock marked another second. Would this interminable class ever end?  
  
***  
  
Faith drew the blade of the knife across the stone using a slow, deliberate motion, taking great care to keep the angle perfect. She finished with a flourish, holding it up to the light then testing the edge with her thumb. Satisfied, she slid the weapon into its sheath.  
  
"That one's good," she announced. "What's next?"  
  
Buffy looked up from shaping a stake. "Check the fletching on those arrows. Or you can sharpen those throwing stars."  
  
Faith picked up an arrow and sighted along its length, turning in slowly. "This is the shit," she said. "Nothing like working on your weapons. Although I guess Xander didn't get to work his weapon." She snickered.  
  
Buffy stopped her task. "Could you be a little more tacky?"  
  
Faith scowled. "What's your major malfunction? Do you really think that Cordelia hasn't been taken for a test drive?"  
  
Buffy waved a hand. "I don't know. I suppose it's possible. I mean, sure, if you asked me to compile a list of ten girls most likely to be virgins, Cordelia wouldn't be on it, but that doesn't make it impossible."  
  
Faith laughed. "Think about it-Cordelia keeps herself chaste and all it does it make her the target for a bunch of loonies. If she is a virgin, which I still doubt." She shook her head. "The things that can get you in trouble. Makes me grateful to Stevie McGillicuddy in the seventh grade."  
  
Buffy frowned. "Your first time was in seventh grade?"  
  
Faith shrugged. "Lot of my friends didn't wait that long. Besides, what's the big? Now I don't have to worry about the virgin grinder."  
  
Buffy returned her attention to the stake, but her hands only worked for a few minutes. Faith tugged at the feathers in an arrow then returned it to the quiver, satisfied. "Sure beats being in class, doesn't it?" When there was no reply she looked at Buffy. The blond Slayer was bent over the stake but her hand was still, her mind elsewhere.  
  
"What's that?" Faith said, her voice louder. "Yeah, this is my favorite way to kill an afternoon."  
  
"Huh?" Buffy looked up. "Sorry. Guess I took a mental vacation day there."  
  
"I'll say." Faith twirled an arrow between her fingers like a baton. "If this is true, it's kind of funny. I mean, Willow's got some and Cordelia hasn't."  
  
"This really isn't my favorite subject." Buffy shook her head.  
  
The light bulb went on for Faith. "Wait a minute. Was Angel your first?"  
  
"First and only." The instant the words were out of her mouth Buffy knew they sounded small-town and naïve and she hated it.  
  
"No shit." Faith turned her full attention to Buffy. "I mean, doing the undead would be freaky enough, but to have it be your first... Hey, I gotta ask, was he, y'know, cold?"  
  
Buffy squirmed. "I really don't want to go there."  
  
Faith leaned forward. "C'mon B. Share. Slip me the lowdown on vamp lovin'."  
  
Buffy turned away. "Don't take this the wrong way, but please shut up."  
  
"Hey," Faith said, "I'm five by five, but I think somebody's got issues." She returned to sharpening weapons in the tense silence.  
  
***  
  
Willow worked her way out of the trickle of departing students and entered the library. Xander was already there, sitting at the table and looking pasty. She heard voices from the office; she assumed Giles and Lindsay were there. She crossed the room to the table. As she sat down Xander looked up.  
  
"Hey, Will," he said, "I'm really sorry about... y'know, yesterday and everything."  
  
Willow nodded once, her mouth turned down a little. "I know you're upset, so I'll let it go." The doors opened and Buffy came in. Oz followed a few minutes later. Giles and Lindsay came out of the office.  
  
"Yes," Giles was saying. "That might be the best plan."  
  
"We have a plan?" Xander said.  
  
"Yes," Giles said. "The proprietor of the Magic Shoppe should be able to tell us if anyone has bought the book containing the spell for calling Azrael. That should lead us to Cordelia."  
  
Willow got up from the table and went into the office. For a few minutes there was silence, then the whirring of the printer. Willow came out, holding a sheaf of papers in her hand. "Here," she said as she handed them to Giles. "That's five copies of the spell from five different web sites."  
  
Giles stared at the papers. Lindsay said, "So we've got nothing." Willow nodded.  
  
"Afraid so," she said.  
  
Giles shook his head. At that moment the door banged open and Faith entered. "What's with the grunge angst?" she said.  
  
"Willow just shot down our best lead," Lindsay said.  
  
"And we're running out of time," Giles added.  
  
"What?" Xander came halfway out of his chair.  
  
Giles shook his head. "The ceremony must be performed on the new moon. The first night of the new moon is Thursday."  
  
"Day after tomorrow?" Buffy said. Giles nodded. Lindsay bit her lip. "So what do we do?" Buffy demanded.  
  
Giles shrugged. "I honestly don't know." He looked at the students. "Why don't all of you go home. Ms. Maeda and I will continue to work."  
  
"Wait," Xander said. "We can't just give up."  
  
"Xander," Giles said, "we are not giving up, but we have no leads. It will do no good for you to stay here. Go home, rest, do your schoolwork. If we discover anything, we will call you. Now go." He turned and went back into the office. Lindsay watched him go, then turned back to the kids.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, "but he's right. We'll get in touch as soon as we can think of something." She turned and hurried after Giles.  
  
***  
WEDNESDAY  
***  
  
Willow tried to concentrate, but emotional turmoil did not sit well with brushing one's teeth. She leaned over the sink to spit.  
  
There was a split-second of nausea and then the headache hit like an anvil dropped from the Sears Tower. Her toothbrush fell to the floor. Willow turned, hands squeezing her head, and collapsed, missing the countertop by a whisker. The pain crested and receded like a wave, a very big, very slow wave. She took a fluttering breath and moved her arms and legs. Confident that she was in control of her skeletal system, she got up and hurried to the hall phone.  
  
"Oz," she said, "I need you to take me to school, right now."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia felt the grit against her cheek and realized that she must either fallen asleep or lost consciousness at some point. She tried to push herself up and found that she had passed out with her left arm underneath her. The limb was numb and dead.  
  
"Here, let me help." Casey Porter started to reach out to her.  
  
"No," Cordelia snapped. "I can do it." Two attempts convinced her that she was wrong. "Here," she said, extending her right arm. Casey knelt beside her and the two of them were able to get Cordelia into a sitting position. It only took a few minutes for her arm to begin burning as the feeling returned. Cordelia grimaced in pain.  
  
"Oh, have you got a boo-boo?" Janine sneered.  
  
"Shut up," Casey snapped. "Just shut up. All you've done is sit there in a ball and when you're not doing that all you've done is bitch at her. What's your problem?"  
  
"My problem is that you keep acting like she's some sort of queen. Didn't you get enough of her at school, her and her little gang of cronies? Always looking down on everybody else, always judging everyone, and now that we're about to die, you still treat her like royalty."  
  
"Not like royalty," Casey said, "like a human being."  
  
"God," Cordelia said to Janine, "do you realize how very pathetic you sound? Where do you live?" The blond glared at her for a second, then spat out an address. Cordelia nodded. "You know, that's not exactly the ghetto. And if you feel bad about yourself when I'm around, well that's your problem, because I don't recall ever even speaking to you before."  
  
"That's my point," Janine said.  
  
"What?" Cordelia threw up her hands and grimaced as her left arm protested. "Because I'm a cheerleader, I'm supposed to know everyone's name? Would it be okay to be all sullen and broody if I were poor? Or what about those art geeks who hang out by the fountain? They're not exactly racing around saying hi to everyone. What about them?" Janine scowled but said nothing. Cordelia twisted her torso, trying to work out a kink, and felt a tightening of the skin on her leg. She looked at her thigh and saw a dried scaly spot. Her eyes filled with burning, acid tears.  
  
"Look," Casey said to Janine, "I'm sorry. But if it weren't for her, we'd both be dead now."  
  
"Or worse," Cordelia said, still looking at her leg.  
  
"Huh?" Casey turned toward her.  
  
Cordelia looked directly into the other girl's eyes. "Death isn't the worst thing that can happen." She shook her head to clear her tears. Casey blinked and looked down at the floor. Cordelia got to her knees, then to her feet and hobbled toward the other room. Time for the morning toilet.  
  
***  
  
"I thought you couldn't control it," Buffy said.  
  
"I can't," Willow said. "I'm not saying I can."  
  
Giles furrowed his brow. "But you believe that you know where to find Cordelia?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "No. I mean, not like I saw a picture of a house or anything."  
  
"But you saw Cordelia," Xander said.  
  
"No. Not really."  
  
Giles made a doubtful noise. "I'm not certain I understand."  
  
Willow gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not sure I do either. I just know I was brushing my teeth this morning and I got another one of those... whatever I get, and I had a really strong impression of Cordelia and where she was."  
  
"But you said you don't know where she is," Buffy pointed out.  
  
"Will you all shut up and listen!" Willow screamed. The library fell silent. Lindsay stepped to the door and glanced out. She turned and shook her head. No one had been summoned by Willow's outburst. The girl slumped over the table, head cradled in her hands. Oz stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Why don't you give her a chance to explain it?" he said. "Without the Ron Popeil moments?"  
  
Giles nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry, Willow."  
  
Willow pushed her hair off her forehead and held it back with both hands. The gesture stretched her forehead tight and made her eyebrows arch even more. "I was brushing my teeth when one of those hit me. I can't explain it in words because it wasn't in pictures or symbols or anything like that, but I know that I got a sense of where Cordelia is. Or the direction at least." She sighed and let her hair fall back. "I can't think of a way to describe it. Maybe like sound or color. All I know is that Cordelia is in that direction." She pointed northwest.  
  
"Just direction?" Giles frowned. "Do you have any idea how far?" Willow shook her head. The Watcher thought, chewing on his lower lip as he did. "Could you tell if we were getting close?"  
  
Willow looked at him. Oz realized that he knew that look; it was the look she wore when she was puzzling out a particularly difficult equation. "I think so," she said. "At least in the general area."  
  
"Rupert," Lindsay said, "you're not considering this?"  
  
He looked at her. "I am."  
  
Lindsay grabbed him just below the shoulder. "Can I point out all the deficiencies that are immediately apparent? We have no, zero proof that she'll be able to do this." She turned to Willow. "No offense. Nothing personal." The redhead nodded.  
  
Giles bowed his head for a heartbeat. "Ms. Maeda, I respect your opinion, but believe me when I say that if Willow is convinced of the accuracy of this vision, then I believe her." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I know this seems very irregular to you, but please trust me. These are not children, not any more. They have seen more supernatural phenomena than all but a handful of our group and battled more than perhaps anyone."  
  
Lindsay looked at Willow. "How close is 'the general area?' Can you get within a block? A square mile?" Willow shrugged, looking miserable.  
  
Oz coughed. As everyone looked at him, he said, "I might be able to help you with that."  
  
***  
  
"You think you can track her by smell?" Buffy sounded skeptical. "How?"  
  
Oz took a step closer to the Slayer. "You showered this morning with lilac soap. And you had..." He squinted just a bit. "...salad with ranch dressing for lunch. Which you're trying to cover with Carefree gum."  
  
Buffy blinked twice. "Okay, I'm convinced."  
  
Faith tapped a foot. "Is this some kind of werewolf thing?"  
  
Oz nodded. "I think so. I can find Willow anywhere in the school."  
  
Xander said, "So why can't you just take us to Cordelia?"  
  
"There's a distance factor. I can't smell Willow when she's at her house and I'm at mine. And I know what Willow smells like. I don't know Cordelia's scent."  
  
"Well," Buffy said, "that's why we're here." At that moment the door to the locker room opened and Willow's head appeared.  
  
"All clear," she said. The two Slayers and Oz followed her into the locker room. Xander remained outside as watch. The quartet looked around. The far wall of the room was lined with full-length lockers, each with a mesh front. A huge blackboard hung on the wall just to their left, bracketed by two full-length mirrors.  
  
"Which one's Cordelia's?" Willow asked.  
  
"This one," Buffy said, walking to the third locker and pointing. "Who else would have Chanel No. 5 in her locker?" A pile of clothing lay on the floor of cubicle.  
  
"Do we just bust the lock?" Faith asked. Buffy looked at the locker for a few minutes before she answered.  
  
"No," she said as she lightly kicked the bottom of the mesh. "See, it's come loose down there." She bent, worked her fingers through the openings, and began to pull. The screen peeled back to offer access.  
  
"Okay," Buffy said as she reached inside, "what have we here?" She pulled her hand back and held up a black sports bra.  
  
"No," Oz said, taking a quick step back. "And no socks and definitely no underwear. This is borderline fetish enough."  
  
"Well then, let's see." Buffy reached back in and brought out a black half-shirt with long sleeves and a mock T-neck. "Will this do?"  
  
"Yeah," Oz said, nodding hastily. "Now, could we go?"  
  
***  
  
"Are you okay?" Casey Porter asked, touching Cordelia on the shoulder.  
  
"I'm fine." But Cordelia's dull eyes and listless voice said she was lying.  
  
"What's wrong?" Casey crouched, trying to get down to eye level.  
  
Cordelia looked up into the other girl's face. "What do you think?"  
  
Casey fell back on her haunches. "What can I do?"  
  
"Nothing. There's nothing you can do."  
  
"You said someone would be looking for us," Casey said. "They still might find us."  
  
"Even if they do," Cordelia said, looking past Casey with a thousand-yard stare, "it may be too late."  
  
***  
  
"This is the best I can do," Willow said. Oz pulled the van to the curb and killed the engine.  
  
"Are you sure?" Xander said, looking out the window at the decaying neighborhood outside.  
  
"I'm sorry," Willow said, "but the impression isn't any stronger."  
  
"Okay," Buffy said to Oz. "You're up." She took the half-shirt out of the plastic bag she carried and handed it to him. Oz held it in front of his face for a few seconds.  
  
"Let's go," he said as he opened his door.  
  
"Be careful," Giles said. The plan called for him to stay at the van with Lindsay. As Buffy had explained it, "Not to sound harsh, but all of us walking around with you two will look like a day trip from teacher's pet camp."  
  
They stood on the sidewalk in a loose cluster. Oz turned in a slow circle, then began walking. The others followed. Willow kept glancing from side to side. This wasn't the best district in Sunnydale. Most of the lawns displayed large patches of bare dirt; many of the houses were in need of paint and featured old appliances as lawn ornaments. A few had decided to go whole-hog and make an automotive statement in the front yard.  
  
"Now this," Faith said, "this is like home."  
  
"Really?" Willow said.  
  
The brunette Slayer shrugged. "We didn't have any yard, but hardly anyone in Boston does, at least not anyone who lives on the top floor of a three-decker. But the general ambience is pretty close." A pack of middle-school kids raced by shouting. Willow started as they passed.  
  
Oz stopped, turned, and went back toward the van. Xander wheeled with him. "What's wrong? Aren't you getting anything?"  
  
Oz shook his head. "I thought I had something, but I lost it." They passed the van. Expectation marked the Watchers' faces, but a quick shake of the head from Buffy apprised them of the situation. Oz walked about a block past the van and stopped at a cross street. He stood there for several minutes, staring in to space, then turned left. He led them on a meandering path with no rhyme or reason to its twists and turns. Buffy could sense Faith and Xander growing agitated. She quickened her pace to draw even with Oz.  
  
"I don't want to hex your mojo here, but are we gaining any ground?" she asked.  
  
He spared her a quick glance. "I think so. It seems stronger, but there's lots of stuff in the way."  
  
"Okay," she said. "Keep sniffing." She dropped behind him. Oz stopped, backtracked, turned back in the original direction, then stopped.  
  
"She's around here," he said, then turned in a slow circle. "There." He pointed across the street. They rushed across the cracked concrete toward a makeshift fence built of rusting panels of corrugated tin topped with barbed wire. Two panels wired to iron poles served as gates. A padlocked chain ran through holes snipped in each panel.  
  
"What is this place?" Willow said. Faith pushed past her.  
  
"Let me see." Faith crouched, peering through the holes in the gate panels. "Looks like a junkyard to me," she said, dusting off her hands as she stood.  
  
"Are you sure she's in there?" Buffy asked. Oz shrugged.  
  
"Give me a minute," he said and walked away. Minutes passed. Buffy felt the sun on the top of her head and heard the buzz of flies in the air. Strong smells of oil and dirt hung in the air. Oz came into view, walking from the opposite end of the block.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I circled the block. I keep smelling her in the middle."  
  
"Okay," Buffy said. "How do we get in?"   
  
Faith bent down and peered at the lock. "Chain's too strong," she said. "But I think the cut is rusty enough that it'll give. Give me a hand, B." The Slayers positioned themselves in front of the panels. "On three," Faith said. "One... two... three!" They kicked simultaneously. The panels crashed and shook but they held. Faith looked again. "Oh yeah," she said. "It's gonna go."  
  
Two more kicks and the rusty tin parted with a squeal of protest. The Scooby Gang pushed open the gate and entered a landscape so alien it might have been in another solar system. The yard covered the entire block. Immediately in front of them, a hard-packed dirt path led between rows of junked cars. Broken glass littered the ground around the cars and caught the sun, throwing winking shards of brilliant light into the air. As they shuffled their feet, small puffs of dust rose and settled. Buffy squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand.  
  
"Where do we go?" she asked Oz.  
  
He pointed down the path. "Follow the yellow brick road." They had gone about a hundred feet when they saw the building, a concrete block affair with two large overhead doors and one white door to the right. A faded sign in the one dingy window read 'L&S Salvage.'  
  
"What do we do?" Willow asked, rubbing her nose.  
  
"I say straight on in," Faith said.  
  
"You would," Buffy replied, "but I don't see any other way." She turned to the others. "Faith and I are going to open the doors. You guys follow when we give you the thumbs-up." The Slayers sprinted to the building and plastered themselves against it on either side of one of the overhead doors. Buffy looked at the door's handles, then at Faith. The other Slayer nodded. Buffy nodded three times. Both of them wheeled in, grabbing a handle and yanking up. The door was unlocked and slid up smoothly on its rails, banging to a halt in the fully open position. There wasn't much to see, just one large, high-ceilinged room. A standard door opened to their right. Buffy turned and waved. The Scoobies dashed across the dirt and through the door. Faith turned to the standard door and kicked. It was a cheap hollow-core and smashed into splinters. She went into the room and came out.  
  
"Must have been the office," she said. "It's clear."  
  
"Hey," Oz said, "check it out. There's another door over here."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia heard the sound of footsteps. She clenched her jaw and swallowed. Somehow, she would inflict pain. The footsteps stopped. There was a booming impact on the door, then another, then it flew inward, the top hinge pulling out of the frame with a scream of wood screws. She threw up her hands against the light.  
  
"Cordelia?" Xander's voice! It was Xander's voice! She pulled down her hands, but her watering eyes could only make out blurry shapes. She heard Faith say, "Wow, is it ripe in here", then arms were around her, pulling her to her feet.  
  
"Wait, wait." It was Willow. "They're chained."  
  
"We've got to get them off." That was Buffy. Cordelia's eyes were adjusting; she could make out faces. Xander pulled her to him.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
"That," she sobbed in his ear, "is the stupidest question I've ever heard. Of course I'm okay."  
  
Oz ambled up. "Here," he said, holding out a hammer and an enormous screwdriver. "Improvise." Buffy took the tools and knelt in front of Cordelia.  
  
"Hold still," she commanded. Positioning the screwdriver against the first padlock, she smacked it once, twice, three times with the hammer. The lock tumbled away, sheared through the hasp. Buffy stood up. Willow and Faith had gone to the other two girls in the room. The Slayer freed them in minutes.  
  
As they came into the light of the main room, Willow stifled a gasp. She could really see Cordelia now, and it wasn't pretty. Queen C's arm was looped around Xander's shoulders; he was practically holding her upright. A large scab graced her right knee, surrounded by the dark-red flesh that signaled infection. Her cheerleading uniform was beyond hope; dirt and grime had worked into every fiber, turning the white areas a uniform gray or black. Her hair was matted, she was covered in filth and the smell... Willow saw Cordelia looking at her.  
  
"You look great," Willow said.  
  
"Liar," Cordelia said.  
  
"Dammit, those kids were right." The gang turned toward the new voice. Four male figures stood framed in the open overhead doorway. All of them wore masks. The leader, a guy in a white hockey mask, leveled a knife at them. "See," he said over his shoulder to the others. "I told you it was a good idea."  
  
"This?" Buffy said. "You guys are the death cult?"  
  
Hockey Mask shrugged. "I'm not too doctrinaire."  
  
"Fancy vocabulary for a guy who picks on women," Xander said, his voice betraying the strain of supporting Cordelia.  
  
"Harris," Hockey Mask said, sounding as though he'd just noticed Xander's presence. "I'll bet you're relieved to find out that you weren't the only cowboy who couldn't mount up."  
  
"How did you know we were here?" Willow asked.  
  
Hockey Mask laughed. "We asked the neighborhood kids to tell us if they saw anyone poking around the junkyard."  
  
"Do you have any sort of plan or are we just supposed to hold these poses?" Buffy said. She glanced at Faith and made eye contact. The new Slayer blinked slowly. The chains used to hobble the girls dangled from her right hand.  
  
"Sure," Hockey Mask said. "Azrael's the angel of death, so I guess we kill you. It could be messy fun." His compatriots hefted their weapons, a collection of aluminum baseball bats and crowbars.  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Sounds like lameness to me. I mean, the death cult thing has panache, but this? This is just half-assed."  
  
Hockey Mask's hand trembled as he raised his knife and pointed it at Buffy's head. "Smart mouth for somebody whose life is in my hands."  
  
Buffy waved her hands, dismissing him. "Yeah, yeah. Tell you what, I'll give you one chance to put down your weapons and give up."  
  
"Give up?" His voice climbed into a higher register. "We have the power. You are nothing!"  
  
Faith said, "So your dick's what? Inch and a quarter?"  
  
He cried out in rage and swung toward Faith. Buffy launched herself at him. He tried to turn back but was too slow. Buffy's left hand came up fast into his armpit, stabbing into the big bundle of nerves. His scream was cut short as the heel of her hand slammed into the hinge of his jaw. Not even hard plastic was adequate defense against Slayer strength. One of his compadres, a burly guy in a Scream mask, started to raise his bat, but Faith was already on him. Her right arm came straight over the top, the chains crashing down across his head. He screamed in pain and dropped the bat. Faith caught it by the barrel with her left hand and thrust upward. The knob caught him right under the chin. He made a gagging noise and fell over.  
  
The other two, one in a Freddie Krueger mask and one in an Old Man mask, stood there, stunned at the speed of the attack. Faith turned on them, reversing the bat in a blur of motion. They both cringed, shaking their heads. Oz walked up to them and took their weapons, another bat and a crowbar. "I think I should hold these for you," he said. Buffy reached down and hooked her fingers beneath Hockey Mask's disguise.  
  
"Don't," Cordelia said. Buffy looked at her in surprise.  
  
"What?" she said. "Don't you want to know who it is?"  
  
"No," Cordelia said. "I don't. Just get me home. Please."  
  
Buffy straightened up. "But we have to do something about these guys."  
  
Willow said, "Cordelia, you can't just let them go."  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "I just want to go home and take a bath for about nine days."  
  
"Hey, Buffy." Faith looked at the two conscious miscreants. "Could we shake a leg here? One of the Masters of Death seems to be having a problem with sphincter control."  
  
"Cordelia..." Buffy began, but Cordelia just leaned on Xander and shook her head.  
  
"Take her home." One of the other hostages, a dark-haired girl with a chunk of a watch on her left arm and a bunch of those string friendship bracelets on her right, stepped forward. "Call the cops. I'll press charges." The girl looked at Cordelia and Buffy could have sworn something passed between them. "I'll take care of it."  
  
"I'm not gonna look a gift fish in the mouth," Xander said. "Let's get you home." He began to help Cordelia toward the door.  
  
***  
FRIDAY  
***  
  
"I can't believe she's going through with it," Willow said.  
  
Buffy shrugged, watching as they maneuvered the portable stage into position. One of the custodians reached down and locked the wheels, then turned and gave the thumbs-up. The band director nodded. The Sunnydale High band launched into Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely", and the SHS Homecoming Court came around the end of the bleachers.  
  
First came Little Miss Homecoming from Sunnydale Elementary. Her escort carried the queen's crown on a satin pillow. Then came the freshman attendant, then the sophomore, then the junior, each accompanied by her escort. They took their positions on the platform, trying to appear dignified and serious atop the wobbly dais. Cameras flashed in the crowd as proud parents strove to immortalize a significant moment in time. Then the candidates for queen appeared.  
  
Harmony wore a black formal, her hair piled high. Razorbacks tailback Travis McNabb, who was responsible for two of the three touchdowns Sunnydale had scored in the first half, escorted her. Harmony mounted the platform with small teetering steps, Travis's hand at the small of her back for support.  
  
"Hey," Faith said as she slid in beside them, a box of popcorn in hand, "I miss anything?"  
  
Buffy said, "She's about to come out." As if on cue, Larry and Cordelia came into view.  
  
"Wow," Willow said. Buffy had to concur. Cordelia looked stunning. The jade-green dress fell in a flawless line as she glided across the track toward the stage. Her arm was hooked through Larry's elbow, her hand resting lightly along his forearm. They reached the base of the steps and Cordelia swept up without a moment's hesitation, her shining hair swinging across her back. Larry followed, a huge grin splitting his face. Her gown was almost exactly the same color as the grass stains on his uniform.  
  
"She looks pretty good," Faith said. "Amazing what a firehose and a bucket of soap can accomplish." The girls watched as Cordelia and Harmony assumed their spots. Two chairs remained unfilled. One was a copy of the pretentious patio furniture occupied by the rest of the court. The other was the queen's throne, a slightly more ostentatious bit of wrought iron resting on a six-inch high box. The two candidates faced the crowd. There was a sharp moment of feedback as the PA blurted into life.  
  
***  
  
The lights were too bright. The faces in the bleachers looked washed out, high contrast smudges of blazing white with black slashes for mouths and black blots for eyes. Cordelia fought the urge to squint. A bitter, coppery taste lingered in the back of her mouth. As she struggled to control her breathing she could feel her smile ossifying, threatening to slide off her face.  
  
Principal Snyder stood at the edge of the stage, a sour expression on his face. The PA announcer finished introducing the court. Snyder stepped forward, lifting the crown from pillow held by the little boy. The PA announcer said, "And your 1998 Sunnydale Homecoming Queen... Miss Cordelia Chase!" Snyder reached up and placed the crown on her head.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, look," Faith said as she crunched popcorn, "she's crying."  
  
Willow said, "It's been a stressful week."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said. "Plus this like her biggest dream come true."  
  
"Geez," said Faith, "if that's true then she really should get boned."  
  
***  
  
Xander whistled. "Will, you look great."  
  
Willow's smile was small, but it lit up her face like a spotlight. She released Oz's arm and turned a slow spin as they all admired her black dress with silver trim. Circuit completed, she took Oz's arm again.  
  
"You don't look bad yourself," Oz said, pointing at Xander.  
  
"Yes, the plaid vest cost extra, but I felt it was worth it. After all, how often are we undefeated?"  
  
Oz asked, "How's Cordelia?"  
  
Xander shook his head. "She's been pretty incommunicado the last couple of days."  
  
Buffy frowned. "Is that some kind of spa?"  
  
"She says she's okay, but she's awfully jumpy." Xander shrugged, trying to get comfortable in his tux jacket. "Which is understandable, being abducted by a jackass death cult and all."  
  
Willow touched Buffy on the arm. "Where did you get this dress?"  
  
The Slayer leaned forward. "I put it on layaway at Helene's last month," she whispered.  
  
"Whoa," Xander said. "Will you look at that." He pointed across the gym. They all turned just as Faith entered. Her hair was up, highlighting her perfect oval face. Her dress was black and strapless, exposing her creamy shoulders and accentuating that graceful neck. She fidgeted as she looked around, then spied them and crossed the gym floor.  
  
"Faith, where did you get that dress?" Buffy asked.  
  
A nervous giggle bubbled out of Faith's lips. "Lindsay got it for me." She looked around the gym, then flashed a goosey smile. "I feel like everyone's oogling my goodies."  
  
"And how do you feel about that?" Xander asked.  
  
Her lips quivered, twitched, then split into an ear-to-ear grin. "Pretty damn bitchin'."  
  
Willow brushed a hand across the brunette Slayer's shoulders. "Is that glitter?"  
  
Faith nodded. "Yeah. Lindsay thought it would be good."  
  
Buffy said, "Well Lindsay was right. You look fantastic."  
  
"Really? Thanks." Faith was almost quivering. "Hey, when do they start dancing at this shindig?"  
  
"In a couple of minutes," Willow said. "The king and queen have to dance."  
  
As if cued by her words, the lights dimmed and the DJ said, "Ladies and gentlemen, for the first dance of Homecoming 1998, your king and queen." Larry and Cordelia stepped into the spotlight. 'Under the Milky Way' began to play and they danced. They glided around the floor and as they completed their circuit, other couples began to dance. Oz and Willow slipped onto the floor.  
  
Xander turned to Buffy and started to speak then stopped when he saw her expression. The Slayer shot her eyes toward Faith. Xander's eyes widened. He nodded ever so slightly.  
  
"Faith," he said, "would you like to dance?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, taking his offered arm.  
  
Buffy watched them as they made their way onto the dance floor. She smiled and headed for the ladies room.  
  
***  
  
The king and queen completed their dance and Larry escorted Cordelia off the floor. "Excuse me," she said. "I have to go to the bathroom." Larry nodded.  
  
Cordelia hurried into the bathroom. Luck was with her; it was empty. She went to the farthest sink and splashed cold water on her face. She dried with a paper towel, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dance would last no more than ninety minutes, tops. She could get through that.  
  
The stall door clacked like a train wheel. Buffy came out of the cubicle and froze. Cordelia was checking her makeup in the mirror.  
  
Cordelia saw the Slayer and for a second her hand faltered, but she recovered and continued. Buffy went to the sink farthest from Cordelia and began washing her hands. The silence stretched until it was thin as a spider's web. Unable to stand it any longer, Buffy spoke to Cordelia. "Haven't seen you in a couple of days. How's everything going?" Cordelia shrugged in reply.  
  
Buffy tried again. "Your dress looks really great."   
  
"Cram it," Cordelia said.  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, "what's the deal? What burr got under your saddle? Why am I Dr. Evil?"  
  
Cordelia looked at Buffy's reflection in the mirror. The homecoming queen's eyes were hard and accusing. "I know what you thought: 'Cordelia's a big whore. They couldn't have taken her'."  
  
Buffy wanted to protest, but how could she? Cordelia's analysis was painfully accurate.  
  
"I'm a virgin, OK? It's not like I've got one leg or an extra head. I just haven't slept with anybody, and I'm not going to until I want to. And I don't have to justify myself to you."  
  
"Cordelia, I understand--"  
  
"You don't understand anything. And just because you gave it up to the first guy who wore a long coat and looked all broody at you doesn't mean I will."  
  
"Cordelia, I wouldn't tell anybody how to live their life." Buffy's voice was tinged with frost. "Your choice is your choice. 'Why' is your business." She forced a smile. "And to show you how much I believe this, I'm going to ignore your comment and not break your arm."   
  
The door creaked as it opened. Cordelia could see Harmony in the mirror. The blond did not look happy, but that wasn't unusual. She stalked up to the sink, checked her mascara in the mirror, and spoke to Cordelia without looking at her. "That was some trick."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Harmony glanced at Cordelia, disgust etched on her face. "Faking your own 'disappearance' for the sympathy vote. I knew you wanted to win, but I didn't think you'd go this far."  
  
Cordelia shifted her gaze to look at the other girl's reflection. "Harmony, life will go a lot smoother if you can learn to deal with one simple fact-sometimes when things go bad, it's your own fault." She twisted a tissue into a peak and blotted the corner of her mouth.  
  
Harmony's eyes narrowed. "You're gonna get yours, Cordelia, and it's going to happen sooner instead of later." She looked at Buffy, attempting a cruel and haughty gaze. "How nice for you," she said to Cordelia. "One of your little urchin friends is here." She drew herself up, which was a mistake in the dress she was wearing. "I'll let you two have some quality time."  
  
"Wow," Buffy said as the door slammed behind Harmony, "I'm impressed she used 'urchin' in context."  
  
Cordelia looked at the door, then over at Buffy. "Yeah," she said as she left. "I guess there are worse things than people assuming you're a tramp. You could be a stupid tramp like her."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia put on a smile as she assumed her place beside Larry. The burly linebacker touched her on the elbow. "Xander's over there," he said.  
  
"Oh," she replied. "I'm good. I'm okay."  
  
Larry smiled. "Cordelia, I know you take being Queen seriously, but if you don't dance with him, I can't hang with Burke. So, please, go dance with your boyfriend." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave the tiniest of shoves.  
  
Cordelia found herself moving across the dance floor. She was so unconscious of the movement of her feet that she might as well have been on roller skates. At first, Xander was just a small figure in a group of other figures, but as she drew closer he grew in size and the others faded until he was all she could see. She came to a stop. He looked at her.  
  
"Would you like to dance?" he said, extending his hand. Her mind blank, Cordelia reached out and took it. He pulled her to him; his arm circled her waist. She felt stiff and cold in his grasp.  
  
"I know that what happened to you was really awful." He was whispering, so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath. "I know that things won't be back to normal right away. So I'm telling you this now, so that you can put it in the bank. I'm here for you. Trust me."  
  
As the music started to play, she put her head on his shoulder. A tear dropped from the corner of her eye to fall on his jacket as they began to sway together.  
  
***  
  
End of "Mystery Date"  
  



End file.
